An Unexpected Cellmate
by ChocAndSnow19
Summary: Captured in the dungeons of Mirkwood, Fíli realises that he is not alone in his cell - and Olwen, his new acquaintance, becomes involved in his mission to reclaim the Lonely Mountain. Fíli/OC
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, everyone! **

**This is not my first fanfiction, but it is the first one based on "The Hobbit" and its amazing characters. I would be deeply grateful if you told me what you think about this. Every review will be appreciated.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit. This piece of writing is purely of entertainment.**

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**Chapter One**

There was no daylight inside the dungeon, merely a scattering of lanterns tasked to fend off the darkness, and to show them the way as they were hauled to their cells.

Angry voices of his kin floated around him when Fíli was suddenly pushed to the side, where an open door awaited for him. But, barely did he take a couple of steps towards it than he was forced to halt – and the hand of that blasted elf guard reached into his coat once more, wrenching out the spare knife he had tried to hide. He sighed in frustration, but he didn't get the chance to curse the elf properly. The guard gave him a hefty shove, making him stumble forward and into the ill-lit room.

The door slammed shut behind him.

His first thought, once the guard walked away, was to bolt for the bars. A part of him had already known that he couldn't break free, yet he was willing to make an attempt. Giving up without a fight wasn't an option for him. Unfortunately, the only thing he managed was to bruise his shoulder and become even more exhausted, after which he stopped to lean against a wall, listening to the shouts and clangs that had begun to echo through the dungeon.

He wasn't alone, as it turned out. Some of the others were doing the same he had, throwing themselves at their doors. About a few steps to his right, Dwalin collided with the bars with all the strength he could muster while, from what appeared to be the level below, Dori and Nori both groaned, struggling to make their own escape.

"Leave it! There's no way out!"

In spite of the clamour, Fíli recognised Balin's voice.

"This is no Orc dungeon", the elderly dwarf continued from the distance. He paused shortly, waiting for the racket to die down. "These are the Halls of the Woodland Realm. No one leaves here, but by the King's consent."

_We shall see about that. _Fíli tilted his head as he looked through the bars, checking if there were any guards close by. Having found none of them, he quickly reached under the back of his coat, and a smirk flickered at the corner of his mouth once he pulled out a spare knife.

He turned it in his hand. The blade was shorter than the others from his cache, and its handle a bit crooked, which rendered it a bad choice for throwing. But, it might just be thin enough to fit into the lock that kept him here. The keyhole was about the right size, now that he gave it a closer look. It wasn't long before a plan started to form in his head, and he lowered himself to his knees, squinting while he examined the lock in the feeble light.

"I already tried that", a voice said behind him.

His heart skipped a beat. He whirled around with the knife in his grip, the memories of his training kicking in as the prisoner he had failed to notice leaned out of the furthest, darkest corner of the cell. However, the real shock ensued when he saw a woman emerge from the shadows.

Meanwhile, she peered back at him. Her face was terribly pale, betraying a person who had seen little to no sunlight for a long time. Yet, that wasn't the reason why he caught himself staring. There was dirt, smeared over her cheeks and across the shirt she was wearing, down the trousers obviously too large for her, as though she had been digging somewhere in the forest before she was captured.

"It's not going to work", she added, "You can't pick the lock. Especially not with that salad knife you're holding."

"Salad knife?", he repeated, slightly offended. But, he suppressed the urge to retort. "Who are you?"

"Excuse me, but this is _my_ cell. Give me your name first and I'll give you mine." He didn't answer, though, holding his ground, and she pressed her lips for a moment. "I see you've run into a nest giant spiders, as well."

It dawned on him that he hadn't pulled all of the web off his clothes. On the other hand, neither had she. A few threads were hanging off her shoulders as she stood up, moving to sit on a less shady spot on the floor.

"It appears we have something in common", he said.

"Aye. And that's where our similarities end."

The woman's hand went for her sleeve and he instantly tensed, waiting for her concealed weapon – only to find her pull out something small and greyish out of her shirt. Having grasped it with both hands, she carefully settled it on her lap. And, for a few seconds, Fili was convinced that the Mirkwood air was still playing tricks on him.

"Haven't you seen a rabbit before?", she asked, her eyes darting from him to the blade, "Put that thing down, for Valar's sake. You're starting to worry me."

He lowered his hand, though he didn't sheathe the knife yet. Frankly, he wasn't sure what to think of her.

"How did you –" He halted mid-sentence. The woman had just pulled out a carrot out of her pocket – a real, orange carrot – and passed it to the rabbit, which began to nibble on it at once. Fíli awkwardly cleared his throat. "Are you hiding any more creatures up your sleeves?"

"His name is Tancred", she replied in a brisk tone, probably irked by the word 'creature'. "And no, he's the only one." Having glanced down, she fished out another carrot, breaking off a large chunk of it. But, barely did she pop it in her mouth when she looked up at him, and she extended her hand with the remaining piece. "Want some?"

"Uh, no. It's all yours."

"As you wish."

Once he convinced himself that she was harmless, more or less, he turned his back on her. He had already spent too much time on talking, and the lock wasn't going to pick itself. As he pushed the thoughts about her aside, he moved back to the keyhole, giving it another once-over before he eased his knife into it. And then he decided to try his luck by turning the handle to the right.

The blade snapped. A curse in Khuzdul escaped him.

"Fíli?", Kíli's voice called out, somewhere on his far left. "Fíli, what happened?"

"Nothing", he replied, "I'm all right."

Glaring at the broken knife, he reached for the keyhole in hopes that he would retrieve the piece inside. It took him a while, and quite of bit of scraping with his fingertips until he eventually succeeded. However, as he held up the shard to see it clearer, something inside his chest clenched.

"You should've listened", the woman pointed out quietly. By the time he faced her again, she had sat up straighter on the floor. "It looked nice, to be honest. For a salad knife."

Fíli threw her a withering look. Although the knife had been forged far from perfectly, it was his. In fact, it was the first weapon he had made, back in the forges of Ered Luin, where he used to work by uncle Thorin's side as his apprentice. He was always proud of that knife.

Even when Kíli called it a toothpick once.

_Just ignore her. She wouldn't_ understand. Breaking out of his reverie, he sheathed the knife and hid it along with the tip. If the guards had heard the noise, he wasn't about to let them know what had made it. But, then he glanced over his shoulder, abruptly aware that his odd cellmate had seen everything. The notion sent him on edge, leaving him to wonder what she would do should the elves arrive.

"I won't tell the guards if you don't", she said. And despite his wariness, he bowed his head slightly in relief.

"Thank you." Having assured himself that the knife was well-hidden under his coat, he sat down, settling in the corner nearest to the door. With no more means to escape, there was nothing else he could do. He might as well start with the introductions. "I'm Fili, by the way."

"So I've heard." She raised an eyebrow. "Just Fili?"

"Just Fili."

It wasn't a lie, though he had omitted some details. In the meantime, a hint of a smile played across her face.

"Just Olwen."

A long silence descended between them, interrupted only by the water rippling somewhere outside their cell. The woman – no, Olwen – smiled down at the rabbit in her lap, stroking its back once it was done eating, and Fíli frowned. Curiosity had slowly, but inevitably got the better of him.

"I'm surprised they let you keep your, um, Tancred."

"They took him away at first. But, the elf who brought me here, she returned him to me. Gave me some food for him, too. She still does, from time to time." Olwen moved her hand as her greyish companion sniffed her fingers. "I didn't expect that from a group of uptight, tree-worshipping folk."

"Who are you talking to?"

Fíli turned towards the bars the second Kíli spoke up. "I'm not alone. It seems I have a cellmate."

There was a small pause. "He's not an Orc, is he?"

"Not in the slightest", Olwen replied loud enough for him to hear, her eyes never straying from Tancred.

"You're a woman." Kíli's voice was suddenly low in astonishment. "How on earth did you get here?"

"Just like you, I imagine. By doing what I shouldn't have."

A murmur consisting of multiple voices reached their side of the dungeon. The rest of the company seemed to have shared Kíli's surprise, by the sound of it.

"What did she say?", Oin asked all of a sudden.

"Here, Oin, let me fix your trumpet", another voice, undoubtedly Bofur's, chose to cut in, "Does the lass know how we can leave this establishment, by any chance?"

"If she knew, I think she'd be gone already", Fíli replied, taken aback when Olwen gave him an odd look. He returned his gaze to the bars. "Any news on Thorin?"

"No", Kíli replied, "Not yet." There was another, longer stop before he asked: "Fíli, do you think uncle's all right?"

Fíli didn't know how to answer that.

Leaning back until he felt the cold stone against his head, he didn't dare to imagine that something had happened to Thorin. The elves had dragged their uncle away the moment they had walked into the Elvenking's Halls, but that seemed to be ages ago, and plenty of things could happen in that span of time. Fíli kept telling himself to stay level-headed, for the company's sake, yet he dreaded the possibilities. The elves weren't fond of dwarves, after all.

But, likewise, Thorin wasn't too pleased to speak with Thranduil or his kin, given the decade-old grudge he harboured. Fíli didn't blame him for that, nor will he. But, he knew that, with Thorin and the Elvenking in the same room, any conversation could turn volatile.

He let out a weary sigh. It wasn't enough that Gandalf had left them to fend for themselves in a dismal, spider-infested forest, and that they lost their burglar on their way to the dungeon. While he briefly closed his eyes, he pondered whether this day could get any worse.

"He'll be fine", he replied, "He's uncle." As his brother humourlessly chuckled to himself, Fíli took his chance to change the subject. "Who was the last to see Bilbo?"

"I did", Bofur chimed in, "And since he's not locked in here, with us, it's safe to say he escaped the elves. That is, if something hadn't eaten him before they found him."

"You're a joy to be around, aren't ye?", Dwalin gritted out.

"Settle down, brother", Balin decided to intervene, "Bilbo is alive, Bofur. That I'm sure. If he made it through the Misty Mountains, he would find his way out of the forest."

"That's reassuring", Ori chimed in, "But, what about us?"

Fíli turned away from the door, not wishing to hear the rest. But, then he recoiled, having suddenly found Olwen's face inches away from his – while his hand was already up his tunic and on his knife. He hadn't even heard her approach until she was this close. Clenching his jaw, he inwardly cursed himself for being caught off-guard.

"I didn't mean to startle you", Olwen said apologetically, kneeling beside him, "It's a bit warmer over here." While she sneaked a look through the bars for herself, she plucked a strand of spiderweb from behind her ear. "So, your uncle is up there with the Elvenking, no less."

"Is there something you wish to ask?"

"Hey, there's no need to be waspish. I'm not after your life story. Or your secrets." She shrugged soon after. "But, I must say I didn't expect this when I woke up today."

Keeping an eye on her, he reluctantly loosened the grip on the weapon. "You mentioned the Elvenking."

"I did."

"Did you meet him? Before you came here, I mean."

"I saw him briefly, in the distance. We never talked, so I can't tell you what he's like." Her brow furrowed soon after. "He has prettier hair than mine, though."

His wry smile faded as they exchanged glances. At that moment, while she was in the light of a nearby lantern, he noticed how young she really was. He also wondered what she had done to deserve a cell under the Woodland Realm. She didn't strike him as dangerous, especially not with the tender way she was holding that rabbit of hers.

However, appearances could be deceiving. That was the lesson he had learnt not so long ago from Bilbo, who had come as a surprise on quite a few occasions.

"What can you tell me about the dungeon?"

"You're not fiddling around, eh?", she joked, but then her expression turned solemn, "Well, you can't get out of the cell without a key – which you know by now. As for the guards, that's another problem. Their shifts keep changing, and they always come and go at different times. I tried to find a pattern of sorts, but I had no luck so far."

That was something he hadn't expected from her. He leaned closer, bracing his elbows against his knees.

"What about the front door?", he asked in a low voice, in case a guard moved past their cell unannounced, "That can't be the only entrance to the Halls."

"You'll have to ask someone else about that. I only know of the main entrance, since they escorted me through it."

Fíli gave a nod, letting it all sink in. There was much more to her than it meets the eye, and the way she had talked about the dungeon made him certain of it. Mahal knew what else she was keeping for herself.

However, he was ready to bet that she wanted to escape just as much as he did. And the idea of joining forces, if only for a short time, didn't seem ridiculous anymore.

"Olwen, if my kin and I made an escape –", he began.

"That's a big _if_, after what I've told you."

"I know. But, if we somehow escaped these cells, and found a way to rescue my uncle..." He paused while he gauged her reaction. "Would you come with us?"

As he had expected, there was doubt all over her face. Having shifted into a more comfortable position in his corner, he opted for a different approach.

"You would follow us only for a short while. We'll part ways in Laketown. Our path will take us through it, anyway. You can go anywhere you wish from there."

"I can't leave."

"There's always hope."

"Fíli, I _wasn't_ captured. I turned myself in."

Words left him. He stared at her, his mind reeling from the last four words, yet he found his lips unwilling to move as she leaned a cheek against one of the metal bars.

She couldn't be serious.

"The elves didn't capture me", she almost whispered, "I went to the forest to look for them and I – I wanted them to take me to their dungeon." She shrugged soon after. "I also ran into those spiders, but it wasn't that bad. If anything, the elves found me faster than I'd bargained for."

"But –" Fíli stalled, having finally found his voice. "But, you said you'd tried to pick the lock."

"Not to escape. To make sure the door couldn't open."

"What about the guards? And their shifts?"

"That was another precaution."

_Durin's beard._ His instinct shouted at him to back away while he still could. Yet, he struggled against it, doing his best not to have her notice what was happening.

"Speaking of the guards, I suggest you take this", Olwen said, "It's better than the food you'll get from them."

She reached out to him a heartbeat later. Fíli blinked in disbelief, having realised that she had saved that piece of carrot for him after all.

Looking up from the vegetable, and up to her eyes, he once again didn't know what to say. However, he pulled himself together faster this time. He also pushed back every question he had, although he was seriously tempted to ask them. They would have to wait for another day.

He grasped the carrot from her and took a bite.


	2. Chapter 2

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**Disclaimer: I do not own the Hobbit. This piece of writing is purely of entertainment.**

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**Chapter Two**

Telling the time was just about impossible.

Olwen became aware of it shortly after setting foot in the cell, where she would remain for the rest of her days. In the lingering semidarkness among the four walls, hours and minutes blurred together, and she didn't take notice of it until it was too late. She soon couldn't tell what day it was, let alone how many had passed since her surrender – not that she made any efforts to count them.

Night was coming, though. She had no doubts about it. A familiar coldness was seeping into the floor she was lying on, and she began to feel it against her back while it reached through her clothes, sending bitter chills up her spine. It was becoming worse as autumn was nearing its end, yet she wasn't concerned, in spite of the discomfort that had often caused her. The sudden, uncontrollable shivers, the yellowish tinge on the pads of her fingers, the numb toes, it all kept her mind occupied, preventing her from dwelling on things that she should leave alone.

She turned her head, letting her gaze wander to the door, towards Fíli, only to find him gone. To her surprise, he wasn't keeping watch there like he used to. He was a tad further away, instead, on his hands and knees as he was drawing something across the floor with a piece of chalk. How he had obtained the thing was another mystery, which she wasn't planning to investigate yet. She remained on her side of the cell, contented with simply watching him make additional lines on the stone.

Frankly, she was impressed with his resolve. Although it had been a while since his futile lockpicking, he didn't stop searching for another way to escape. She gazed at another, jagged line he had drawn before she pushed herself up with a growing interest, and ambled closer to him. That was when she saw the shapes laid out around his hands, the disbelief rooting her to the spot.

_Yavanna's garter._ It was a sketch of the dungeon, made entirely from memory. Rough, but full of details, it showed the path from their cell to the bulky door leading outside the dungeon, including everything in between. As Olwen moved forward, Fíli was busy marking every cell door he had seen, every detour, even all the flights of stairs he had gone down. Well, almost all of them.

"That is astonishing." She stood at the edge of the sketch, marvelling at how much he had done so quickly. And then she pointed a finger beside the space he was working on. "But, those steps lead to the left."

The chalk came to a stop. "I believe they go right."

"They go left. I remember that, because I tripped and almost rolled down them before I reached the cell."

Fíli was quiet for a moment, that is until he straightened and turned to her with a mildly mistrustful look.

"Why are you doing this?", he asked.

"Why not? I have nothing better to do while I'm here." She sat on the floor next to him, so that their eyes were at the same height. "I also hoped I'd get a chance to talk. Of course, I enjoy talking to Tancred every now and then, but the lad never says anything in return."

"Someone must've been here before."

"Nah." Her smile was rueful while she added: "You have the honour of being the first."

His eyes widened at the last part, though he said nothing. A small nod was his only answer, yet she caught sight of his reluctance when he chewed on the inside of his cheek.

"It's all right, Fíli. You can ask what's on your mind." He wordlessly furrowed his brow, which made her sigh in impatience and form the question herself. "Why would she resign herself to a life behind bars, alone?"

"Actually, I was thinking of something else", he corrected her, toying with the chalk between his fingers, "Did you ever regret it, choosing to become a prisoner?"

The question left a lump in her throat. It was difficult to push down, but he didn't need to know that.

"Never", she told him, "If I woke up in the past to face that choice again, I would've done the same."

As she spoke, she discovered that he was still on his guard, though he was doing his best to be subtle. Since she had joined him on the floor, his free hand strayed for the third time to his side, his fingers reaching for his tunic and the broken knife outlined underneath the fabric - but that didn't take her aback. He might have been her first cellmate, but he certainly wasn't the first to be wary of her. If anything, it showed her that he was no fool.

However, unlike him, Tancred didn't seem to have a care in the world. Fíli had barely moved from his sketching, and their floppy-eared companion had grown accustomed to him so much that he decided to hop closer. He even gave Fíli's coat a sniff, eyeing the cobweb stuck to the rim, and it was then that a thought hit her.

"What does the forest look like now?", she asked.

"The Mirkwood?" Fíli glanced away from Tancred, whose interest had shifted to his chalk. "Well, it's dark and far too quiet. And it makes you see things."

"So, it hasn't changed much." She cracked a grin, mostly to herself. "When I strayed from the path, I wound up on some clearing, dancing with people who weren't really there. Some of them, I hadn't seen in years."

His expression became softer. Or perhaps she had imagined it in the faint light. Whatever the truth was, his face turned serious a heartbeat later, as one who was pondering carefully about what to say next.

"A part of my family stayed home", he said eventually, "But, I saw them out there, walking out of the bushes."

"That was quite weird, I bet."

"It was." He stalled once a crease formed between his eyebrows. "Still, I was glad to see them. For a time, it seemed as though I'd never left. And then I opened my eyes, just to be ambushed by a spider the size of a cow."

He reached down to scratch his arm, pulling up his sleeve for a second, but Olwen caught a glimpse of where the spider's stinger had struck. The mark on his forearm was puffy even in the dim light of the lanterns.

"Unbelievable. It looks like _do_ have something in common." She rolled up her breeches leg to show her own mark. "A word of warning, though – it'll scar."

"At least we're in one piece." Fíli narrowed his eyes at the mark above her ankle. Though it hadn't healed yet, it was far less swollen than his. "Does it hurt?"

"No. It just itches sometimes." Olwen let go of her breeches and crossed her legs. "You know, for someone almost eaten alive, you look fairly calm."

"So do you."

A guard's footfall from the other side of the dungeon was the only reply he got while the two of them gazed at each other, his feeble smile probably matching hers.

"Thorin is still out there", someone chimed in.

Fíli craned his neck to look behind her, in the direction of the cell beside theirs. Olwen didn't know a thing about its current occupant, except that his name was Kíli, and she couldn't help but wonder if he was also a dwarf.

"Aye", Fíli told him, "How are you faring?"

"I can't complain", Kíli said flatly, "I have an entire cell to myself, a bench to sit on. And my very own bucket." A clank was heard when he knocked his knuckles against a wooden surface. "How about you, miss – Olwen isn't it? I hope my brother's not bothering you too much."

"He's been decent so far." She went quiet, bemused that she hadn't made the connection faster. Fíli seemed more worried about him than the others he shared the dungeon with. And then there were the rhyming names. "But, if that changes, I think I can handle him."

There was a hint of amusement on Fíli's face, to which she shrugged in response. Thankfully, she didn't have to explain what she meant, because Tancred had jumped into her lap and caused her to chuckle. She looked away then, patting down her trousers to find a carrot for him.

"I had no idea you were brothers", she mused aloud, "I'm not stuck here with the funny one, am I?"

"Sadly, no", Kíli replied, while Fíli glowered at both of them. Kíli lapsed into a brief silence after that, only for Olwen to hear a clatter as he suddenly dropped the bucket, and she strained her ears to find out what was happening when he shouted: "He's back! Uncle's back!"

Fíli stood up in an instant. "Where is he?"

"He went past the corner. Two guards are with him."

The fair-haired dwarf leapt to the door. Olwen placed the carrot beside her, luring Tancred off her legs so that she could get up and hurry after the dwarf. Fíli's business wasn't hers, of course, but she wasn't going to miss the opportunity to see the uncle everyone continued to mention, and so she rushed to join Fíli at the bars.

That was when she encountered a problem. The door was too narrow for them to stand side by side, giving her no choice but to stop behind him and peer over his head. Luckily, that wasn't difficult, since she was almost a foot taller than him. Having grasped one of the bars above him for balance, she squinted into the shadows, waiting for the dwarf named Thorin to reappear.

She didn't spot him. Yet, somewhere behind the water that was running through this place, she heard a noise. Keys jingled in the distance, followed by a creak of the hinges as a door was being pulled open, and a muffled clang reached her once it was shut. Fíli and Kíli's uncle must have been escorted to a cell of his own.

"Thorin?", Fíli called out, receiving no answer.

Olwen twisted behind him, holding her cheek against the door. Though she couldn't poke her whole head through it, she managed to stick an ear out between two bars to listen, which turned out helpful. A couple of low voices revealed to her that Thorin was talking to someone, perhaps another member of their odd company.

"I told him he could go _ishkh khahfe andu null._" The noticeably deep voice had to belong to Thorin. It was brimming with anger, and it was growing louder with every word until he spat: "HIM AND ALL HIS KIN!"

_That didn't sound encouraging._ Olwen glanced down to ask Fíli what that was, but she gave up on the idea the moment she saw his stooping posture.

"I assume you'll be here for a while."

"You could say that. The Elvenking won't be releasing us in a hurry." Fíli turned away from the door, looking as though he had expected those unwelcome news. Yet, his gaze soon travelled to his drawing on the floor, and his resignation started to taper off. "Olwen?"

Before she could say a word, he looked at her this time, offering her the small piece of chalk.

"What else do you recall about the dungeon?"

**.**

**.**

**.**

_Did you ever regret it, choosing to become a prisoner?_

The question belonged to the past, yet she kept going back to it in the moments of silence, remembering how much she had trembled before the old forest. Up to that day, she had never needed to dig a hole so deep, whilst her hands struggled with the hardened ground. Since lighting a fire meant unwelcome attention, the only thing she could do was dig. The reminders of it kept her company even now, in the form of calluses on her palms, and she found herself running a thumb over one of them.

She had told Fíli the truth. She had no regrets about confining herself away from the world. However, he had asked her the wrong question – it was what she had done that filled her with remorse and shame. As well as forgetting to bring a shovel with her at the time.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

It suddenly dawned on her that Fíli was there, his brow furrowed in concern while he sat beside her.

"I'm fine. Mostly." She placed her hands behind her back to lean against them. That would stop her from looking there, from drifting back to that day. "You?"

"I'd feel better if I got hold of that key."

Having seen his set face, she nodded in understanding. In spite of the drawing they had finished and checked, the escape plan grinded to a standstill without a key to open the door with. Sad to say, all the keys were held by a guard nobody had seen or heard since Thorin's return.

Clenching what was left of the chalk, Fíli shoved it back into his coat pocket. Olwen wasn't sure for how long he had been awake, but he looked utterly worn out, with shadows forming under his glazed eyes.

"The keykeeper won't be back any time soon", she told him, "Go and get some rest."

"I'll rest when this place is far behind me."

"Well, two carrots say you'll keel over before that."

"Get ready to lose." He tilted his head then, looking at her more closely. "Were you just willing to bet with carrots?"

"I left my coins with the spiders. A lass has to improvise."

His cheek dimpled in a smile, which quickly faded once he glanced towards the bars. The idea of falling asleep didn't strike him as a bright one, she could tell. But, the hours he had spent on his feet must have overcome his urge to stay awake, because he slid a bit down the wall, finding a more comfortable position as his eyes closed halfway.

"Shouldn't you be sleeping, too?", he asked.

"I'll stay at the door for a while. I think I can hear singing from upstairs." She halted once she had caught something else. "And... music. Fíli, can you hear that?"

The dwarf gazed at the ceiling while faint voices drifted into the cell. "It sounds like they're celebrating."

"And you sound like you witnessed such a celebration."

"I did, once. Enough to hope I'd never hear a flute again."

He rested his head against the stone behind him as if he had done it plenty of times. His eyes shut soon after, and Olwen left him to rest, sauntering to the bars.

Barely did she grasp them than the shivers returned.

They were more difficult to suppress, which meant that winter truly was near. She sat where the nearby lantern shed the most light, wrapping her arms around herself while she focused on the sound of a harp in the distance. But, even though the music was beautiful, it didn't do a thing about getting her warm. Having tucked her freezing hands underneath her armpits, she was convinced that the cold had made a permanent residence in her bones.

It was only fortunate that it wouldn't last. A new day would come and banish the night's chill soon enough. All she had to do was keep her patience. And perhaps try to find out what the elves were singing about.

She brought her knees closer to her chest when, quite unexpectedly, something soft was draped over her shoulders. Words abandoned her the second she recognised Fíli's brown coat. She turned around then, the light fur tickling her chin, only to find him next to her again, sitting merely in his tunic and trousers.

"That wasn't very smart", she managed to say after a while, "I could reach your hidden pockets now."

"Go ahead. I emptied them, in case you got tempted."

He gazed outside, listening to the music, yet she didn't, wondering for the first time who Fíli was outside this place. Run-of-the-mill people, or dwarves for that matter, didn't simply end up in the Mirkwood dungeon.

"Thank you", she uttered, huddling under his coat until she considered the idea of trying it on. And it was just as she had expected – the garment hardly covered her back, while the sleeves were pitifully short. However, it was soft and warm, and that was enough. As the newly found warmth brought a smile to her face, she pulled on the hood, looking at him with a chin in her hand.

"How do I look?", she asked.

He didn't get to tell her. A handful of murmurs, rather excited ones as it turned out, rose from the neighbouring cells along with a sound that took her aback. It could only be made by keys, clinking against each other.

"I can't believe you're here!", someone shouted.

"Shhh!", someone else replied while he or she unlocked a door. The first voice muttered a thanks before the stranger moved to get another door opened. And then, with a ring full of keys in one hand, he finally reached their cell, just to see Olwen and stop in his tracks.

Hugging her knees, she stared at him in silence. Fíli was short compared to her, yet the lad at the door was even shorter. But, he couldn't possibly be a dwarf, not with those elf-like ears and bare feet, covered in hair. Come to think of it, she didn't have a clue _what_ he was.

"Bilbo?"

Having peered from behind her, Fíli seemed to pull the lad from whatever daze he was in, because Bilbo flinched, immediately shifting his eyes away from Olwen and focusing on the search for the correct key.

He wasn't alone, however. One by one, more figures began to rush past her door, all of them revealing to be dwarves. A gray-haired one walked by quickly, accompanied by a dwarf with what seemed to be a part of an axe sticking out of his head. The latter stopped to steal a curious look at her when another one appeared, nudging his way beside a concentrated Bilbo.

"You must be miss Olwen", the third dwarf said, intrigued.

It didn't take her long to link the voice with his face.

"And you're Kíli." She was surprised by how much Fíli and he differed. Kíli was taller than his brother, with unruly dark hair and barely a trace of a beard, while Fíli's hair was as light as grain, riddled with plaits. And then there were his moustache, plaited as well.

"It's nice to see whom I've been talking to", Kíli said with a grin. But, then his expression shifted into a confused frown. "Is that Fíli's coat you're wearing?"

She briefly closed her eyes and dropped her head. It had slipped her mind that Fíli was going to need it on the road. As Bilbo stuck a key in the lock, finding it to be the right one, she hurried to take the garment off, until Fíli's hand rested on her shoulder and made her stop.

"It's all right. Keep it." He glanced at Bilbo, who had opened the door at last with a clank of the lock, before turning back to her. "It looks better on you."

He stepped out then, and the brief, carefree moment was over, as she had reminded herself of the reason she was here. While Fíli gave his short friend a pat on the back that almost made Bilbo's knees buckle, she grabbed the bars with both hands, pulling the door closed.

Everyone went silent. A moment passed when the dwarf with the axe muttered something in an odd language, and then Kíli looked at her with wide, bewildered eyes.

"What are you doing?", he started, "We have to – !"

"Go", Olwen cut him off. By that time, the footsteps of the guards echoed from close by. None of the dwarves moved, which led her to turn to Fíli. "Go!"

Thank Yavanna, he didn't hesitate. After looking over his shoulder, where the guards were about to appear, he started to usher the others away from the cell. "Keep moving, all of you. Kíli, Bifur, come on!"

Bilbo and Bifur darted off at once. While Olwen raised a hand in farewell, Kíli stayed behind, protesting as Fíli stood behind him and pushed him out of sight. She could hear them for some afterwards, making their way through the dungeon, their voices growing distant until they were drowned out by the hum of the underground river.

"This was an... interesting day", she muttered to Tancred, who was hiding in a corner, away from the noise. Casting one last look outside, she got back to her feet and shuffled to him. "Let's find something to eat."

**.**

**.**

**.**

Two guards marched past her door, muttering to each other on their way. Olwen failed to find out what they were saying, having caught snippets of a hushed Elvish that she didn't understand one bit. However, their tones gave her an inkling of what had happened outside. The elves could only be this displeased if Fíli, Kíli and the others had succeeded in escaping Mirkwood and, for a few long moments, she was stunned with the thought.

She hadn't honestly expected them to pull it off. The dungeon was guarded well – too well, judging by what had caught her eye – making every escape nothing more than a dream. Yet, if that Bilbo character came up with a way not only to sneak past the guards, but also to obtain the keys to the cells, perhaps breaking out wasn't so impossible after all. It was merely sad that she wouldn't get the chance to ask Fíli about it. How they had done it would have been an incredible story to hear.

"I still don't know how Bilbo passed the front door", she said, exchanging a glance with Tancred, "What say you?"

Having twitched his nose at her, he scuttled off to explore a corner of the cell. Olwen sighed and took a cup beside her, full of water she had barely touched. She tipped it over then, spilling its content on the floor in front of her, hoping to wash away the sketch Fíli had left behind.

Just her luck, that didn't work. A few chalk shapes remained visible, and she grabbed her sleeve to wipe them off when, without a warning, someone appeared right outside the bars. To hide her intentions, she picked up the cloth, pretending to blow her nose into it. But, the guard stayed at the door, as motionless as a tombstone.

He was clearly here for her.

And she couldn't blow her nose forever.

"I already told you, I was asleep", she said, turning towards the figure, "I don't know when they – oh."

Looking up, she discovered that she wasn't talking to an ordinary guard. The captain's red hair was dishevelled, while she appeared winded, as if she had run to the end of the forest and back. Olwen dropped her act, along with her sleeve, and walked closer to the door.

"Tauriel."

"Olwen", she replied quietly, her expression more solemn than Olwen had ever seen, "I'm in need of your help."

The elf-woman held up a large key ring, the same one Bilbo had stolen. In swift, practiced motions, she unlocked the door and wrenched it open while Olwen froze, completely at a loss to what was going on.

"What are you doing?", she asked.

"When we met, you told me you wished to stay in the King's halls. I understood your reasons. I still do. But, something dire happened outside, and I have no choice but to require your assistance... and your skills."

Olwen shook her head. Dread was pooling into the pit of her stomach even before she stepped back.

"You can't ask this of me." Her own voice sounded unfamiliar, seemingly coming from a place far away. "Tauriel, you – you _can't_. You know what I did!"

"I know."

"Then, don't expect me to walk out of here."

"What if you can atone yourself?" Tauriel didn't give her a moment to answer, although she was ready to do it, her index finger in midair already. "You can remain here, if that is still your wish. I will not think little of you. But, if you come with me, you could save the lives of many."

Olwen didn't move as suspicion crept up on her. "Please, don't tell me that Thranduil agreed on this."

"Let me worry about him", she replied, a pained expression flitting across her face, and Olwen inwardly groaned. The Elvenking had no idea about this, yet that didn't trouble her as another thing that crossed her mind. Should she step out of the cell, she wouldn't be a prisoner any longer – she would become a fugitive.

"There is no time, Olwen. I need an answer."

Only then did Olwen realise that her hands were fisting into the edge of her shirt, so tightly that her fingernails were digging through it into her palms. Saying that she preferred staying here would be a lie. She had never wished to be trapped in this room, spending most of the time staring at a wall. Yet, what she truly wanted wasn't important, not after that day. And the only means to prevent it from happening again was reaching for the bars, there and then, and pulling them shut once more.

However, if she chose to follow Tauriel, she would see the sun again, and it might be just warm enough for her shivers to cease. With each passing second, the thought of it became more tempting. She certainly wouldn't find redemption out there, but a small part of her said that, no matter what she tried, she would at least stop feeling cold. Abandoning the dungeon, including the safety it brought, might be worth trading for a bit of warmth. And in that brief moment of weakness, her feet took her over the doorstep and halted on the other side.

Tauriel looked almost satisfied.

"What did you –" Olwen stifled a gasp when the elf snatched her by the wrist, tugging her away from the cell. "Wait, what about Tancred? I can't leave him here!"

"He will be safe. I made sure of it."

Olwen was about to whirl around, to find him, but she was abruptly pulled down the narrow path between the other cells. Sad to say, Tauriel's grip was firm enough to keep her from scurrying off. The only thing Olwen could do was to follow her, scrambling up a few flights of stairs to a door on the side, set deep into the weathered stone.

"Whatever you see, keep your voice down and we might just leave unnoticed", Tauriel said, having grabbed the right key and pushed it into the lock. "Is that clear?"

Hardly did Olwen nod when she was pushed through the door and into a vast room, with elves rushing to and fro. Clad as members of the guard, some of them had trouble standing on their own, leaning heavily against their kinsmen while they hobbled across the room. Their armour and cloaks were heavily stained with blood, causing her to gulp – a battle had taken place nearby, and recently, according to the fresh stains near her feet.

_What did I involve myself in? _She didn't get to ask a thing, though, since she got tugged behind a pillar and ushered along the wall furthest from the guards. The few elves left unscathed by the battle were too busy tending to the wounded to notice her and their captain, yet it was a cold comfort. Olwen couldn't stop thinking about the wounds she had seen, inflicted by something much sharper than the fangs of a giant spider.

The sight continued to prey on her mind while Tauriel guided her through another, smaller door, after which they wound up in a grassy clearing, silent underneath the overcast sky. And then Olwen suddenly halted.

She blinked a couple of times, bewildered by the rustling of grass, the way the blades bent under her shoes, and the breeze that began playing with her hair. It was surreal, standing outside the caves after everything. Whilst her gaze wandered, she fought to pull herself together, and she drew in a long, shuddering breath.

She was outside.

She was free.

"It was an Orc attack."

Tauriel's words turned her blood into ice. However, she couldn't stay there. The guards could find her cell empty at any second and she urged herself to move once again, picking up the pace after the elf-woman.

She had heard of Orcs before. The numerous stories she listened to made her glad for not crossing paths with them. She knew they had started to appear more often on the roads, yet she didn't expect a pack of them to reach the Elvenking's Halls, the place she considered safe. _Something's happening, and it's far from good._

"You didn't tell me where we're going", she said, running with Tauriel towards the forest. The trees soon surrounded them like old friends, enveloping them in the shadows of their canopies as she did her best not to lose sight of the elf. "And who are we rescuing, exactly?"

"The dwarves", Tauriel said without looking back.

"You're joking." Olwen let out a brittle laugh. "We're after the same dwarves who got away?" She fell silent then, having realised that the elf was serious. "Valar. That's your reason for making me break my vows?"

"If things were less dire, I would not have looked for you." Tauriel slowed down, giving Olwen a chance to keep up. "The Orcs were after the dwarves when my people got in their way. But, those creatures will not stop."

"Well, I hadn't the foggiest", Olwen muttered, and the elf glared at her, "Shouldn't the king deal with them?"

"He has... other priorities", came the hesitant reply, and Olwen guessed that Thranduil had refused to pursue the Orcs. "I will not forgive myself if I let the Orcs go, but I cannot hunt them alone. That is why I need you."

"You mean, to fight first and redeem later. If I live."

Olwen stifled a sigh. Perhaps if she knew that those creatures were involved, she might not be so tempted to abandon her cell. Sad to say, there was no turning back now, and she could only hope they would reach the dwarves first – and that she would get to bask in the sun a little, before meeting a sharp end of an Orc blade.

"Try to keep up", Tauriel continued, "We need to track them down, and see where they are heading."

"I don't think that's necessary", Olwen said, causing her to stop. Tauriel turned around and fixed her gaze on the former prisoner, which was probably a sign for Olwen to continue. "A dwarf – the one I shared my cell with – he mentioned a place his company will pass through."

The elf-woman was quiet, waiting for the rest of her answer. Olwen took the opportunity to run in front of her, and she paused to catch her breath, just to add:

"Have you ever been to Laketown?"

**To** **be continued.**

**As always, every review will be greatly appreciated!**

**P. S. When I was rewatching DoS, I noticed that Fíli left his cell in Mirkwood without his coat... my imagination came up with a reason why. ;)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello, dear readers and reviewers!**

**Thank you, _ro781727_** **(**Welcome to the story! By the way, you'll find out very soon who Olwen is. ;) **) and _Emrfangirl_ (**I'm thrilled (and very grateful) to hear that you love this. For now, all I can say is this – expect more surprises coming this way...**). I'm looking forward to hearing more from you. :)**

**I also have to mention _Belinda Valentine Bite, Sweet Petit, WinterBarnesCaptainRodgers, wolfcorgi, Cassandra-Jayne, Hasse360, Kasca Black, Marianne-C, ro781727_**,**_ Mitchiaot, Nougat-XP, Rasmany, Witch-named-Anna, brittKarateKid, __katiebug17, 4plywhenicry, chichi41, lydo99 _and_ Ryndell _****– ****thank you for the favourites and follows! I hope this chapter won't be disappointing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit. This piece of writing is purely for entertainment.**

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Tancred was not supposed to be there.

A mere babe by the size of him, he should have been safe with his family, hidden in one of the countless burrows scattered across Mirkwood. Instead, she found him wrapped in a sticky, greyish cobweb just like she was, and she watched helplessly as the lad bucked in vain, struggling to get away from the spiders. But, once Tauriel came to dispatch the creatures, as well as untangle her, Olwen was reluctant to leave the rabbit behind. Left on his own, he would inevitably become a prey to some other creature lurking around, which made her choice to bring him with her unexpectedly easy. Perhaps, after everything, she considered it a personal debt to take care of him, at least until he grew bigger and got fast enough to evade some of the dangers.

"The Orcs passed through here." Having walked out of the forest, Tauriel stopped near the line where the grass ended and the river began. "The trail looks fresh."

Olwen halted nearby, only to lean forward and rest her hands against her knees as she caught her breath. Having been imprisoned for so long, she did not know how unprepared she was for sprinting through the wilderness until she had to go after Tauriel. She already had a painful cramp in her leg from running, while her heart continued to pound against her ribs like mad.

"Since we're in this pursuit together –" She paused to draw another breath before standing up fully. "You could tell me a bit more about what we're heading into."

"What do you wish to know?", Tauriel asked.

"Let's start with the dwarves. They wouldn't have risked going through Mirkwood without a good reason."

"No. They would not." The elf glanced down at a group of bootprints, frowning as if she had seen a detail she did not like. "I still haven't heard your question for me."

_Of course._ Doing her best not to say something she would regret later, Olwen stepped closer. "Are the dwarves searching for something?"

"In a way. What they seek is over there." Briefly looking up, Tauriel pointed a finger in the distance, and Olwen followed her gaze until she caught sight of a mountain. "It used to be their home, their kingdom. And they believe the time has come for them to reclaim it."

Meanwhile, Olwen lifted a hand to shade her eyes from the sun, her gaze drifting up. The enormous mountain resembled a part of a fairytale, partially enveloped in mist, while its face was more steep than anything she had seen and seemingly reaching the sky. It took her only a moment to find out what she was looking at.

"Is that –", she turned to Tauriel, who gave a nod.

"You might know it as the Lonely Mountain." The elf adjusted her grip on her bow. "Come. We cannot linger."

She stepped away from the tracks, but not before casting one last glance at them. It was then that she went downhill, rushing down a strip of grass wedged between the river on the left and the forest on the right, and Olwen followed her just a couple of steps behind.

"There was an old storyteller, back in my village", Olwen said soon after, wincing as her leg protested, "Well, he wasn't _really_ from my village. He'd come from a town, somewhere in the west. Tancred was his name."

The elf did not stop when she glanced behind her shoulder. "You named your rabbit after him?"

Olwen gave a shrug. "It's a good name. Strong, too. And the little fella surely needed one." Having noticed her companion's puzzled expression, she cleared her throat and changed the subject. "Anyway, the man said there were no kings left alive to rule the mountain. He said the last one had fallen in battle, along with his heir."

"Your storyteller was not mistaken. Yet, the grandson of that king still lives. He is leading the company we are after, and his own heirs are with him."

"You mean, his sons."

"He has none. His heirs are his two nephews."

Olwen nodded absentmindedly, keeping up her pace until a thought struck her, causing her to forget about her surroundings and trip on a root in front of her. She recalled the deep, angry voice that belonged to one of the dwarves. During his absence from the dungeon, her former cellmate and his brother were genuinely worried about him, and they often mentioned him as their –

_Uncle. They called him 'uncle'. Which makes F__í__li the elder nephew. _A sigh escaped her at the memory of him clinging to the iron bars, waiting for news about his family. She would not have guessed, not even in the furthest depths of her imagination, that he was a prince, let alone the future King Under The Mountain.

"We're getting closer." Tauriel wrenched her out of her thoughts, and Olwen immediately kept moving. Luckily, she did not have to go far and she quickly crossed the distance between them, only to see that Tauriel had furrowed her brow. "Olwen, what is it?"

"How did you know all of that?"

"Being the Captain of the Guard has its advantages." The she-elf halted then, crouching next to a patch of grass that had been upturned in many places, most likely by something heavy. "The Orcs who made this are close. I hope you have not forgotten how to fight."

"I hope I'd have a weapon when the time comes."

"You will. But, not before that."

"So, even after all this time, you still don't trust me?" Olwen shook her head in exasperation. "Are you sure you're not related to one of the dwarves?"

"Try not to tempt me", Tauriel replied, just to get back on her feet and continue their trek. In the meantime, Olwen hurried up a little so that they could walk side by side.

"Speaking of trust, your king probably won't give you a warm welcome when you return." She expected Tauriel to say a word or two about that, yet she only met with silence, and she tilted her head to gaze at the elf more closely. "You _were_ planning to return, weren't you?"

She seemed to be deep in thought. "We should gain on the Orcs soon. That's what matters the most."

"I don't understand. Why are you ready to risk so much for a group of complete strangers? And, please, don't say you're here just to stop the Orcs from killing them." Olwen was sure she had pushed it too far, yet she could not stop now. "Tauriel, I want to help you. But, in order to do that you need to tell me what's going on."

The look on her face was inscrutable, which appeared to be a common trait among the elves, and Olwen briefly regretted that Tauriel was not a dwarf. The dwarves, at least those she had crossed paths with so far, wore expressions that were easy to read. But, then the elf turned to her, stalling until she finally uttered:

"I assume you heard of Morgul poison."

_Ah. _"I know it's a nasty thing."

Olwen went quiet soon after. Even though Tauriel had turned away, her hand visibly clenched around the bow she was holding, which confirmed Olwen's suspicions. The elf would not have mentioned this someone was not in trouble – that is, someone who was not a stranger.

"Do you think you can help him?", Olwen asked.

"I can try." Tauriel picked up the pace, taking a few steps forward before she abruptly stopped, and Olwen found out that they had reached the end of the forest, as well as the river. Once flowing swift and strong, it was now almost sluggish as it met with a wide lake, so wide that its other end was beyond the line of sight. "_Elbereth_."

Not giving Olwen a chance for questions, the elf-woman turned to a large stone near her feet. Olwen couldn't help but notice a bloody trail across its surface, along with a handful of bones strewn beside it. The only thought that reassured her was that they belonged to a fish, which meant that the dwarves were safe. At least, for now.

However, something quickly stole her attention, a group of tracks leading away from the lake. Curious to see where they went, Olwen followed them to a cluster of bushes, not so far from the shore. That was when her stomach twisted into a knot, because she was not looking at Orc bootprints any longer. Having settled on one knee, she placed a hand right beside one of the new shapes, red with blood on the rocky ground. This one had the form of a giant paw, more than twice the size of her hand, with deep claw marks – just like a Warg's paw.

_This is far from good. _The Orcs, with Wargs in tow, could cover more ground than travelling on foot, much more ground when they were in a hurry. For all she knew, they could have got to the other side of the lake.

They could have been in Laketown already.

She turned around to warn Tauriel when – as her heart skipped a beat – she noticed that the elf had company. A tall figure had suddenly appeared in front of her, clad in green and holding a bow of his own, and Olwen dove behind the bushes to remain unseen, closing her eyes in embarrassment. How could she be so naive, to think nobody would follow them from the Elvenking's Halls?

"Tauriel, tell your friend to come out", the figure said, "She is not as good in hiding as she believes."

Cursing under her breath, Olwen pushed herself up until she was standing out of the shrubs, her hands raised in mock surrender. And then she stifled a gasp, having realised that she had seen the Elvenking's son.

"You brought _her_ with you?" The Mirkwood prince glanced at Tauriel, with a look of someone utterly unimpressed.

"She can help", the she-elf said.

Though Legolas did not say a word, his left eyebrow raised slightly at her answer. Olwen was not irked much by it, however. Smeared in dirt and probably flushed with exertion, she probably looked like a far cry from someone who could make a difference in pursuing Orcs.

That was when the prince went still, only to whirl towards the forest behind him as if he had heard something out there. Tauriel did the same, with her bow already drawn, while Olwen's gaze darted from one elf to the other, completely at a loss to what is happening.

"Stragglers, from the Orc pack", Legolas explained to her as he drew his own bow. "They are coming."

A distant, menacing growl came from the forest, and Olwen suppressed a shiver. That must have been what a Warg sounded like. Having made a step away from the trees, she was about to pull Fili's coat tighter around her when, without a warning, her fingers brushed against something hard on the inside of the garment. Bowing her head for a better look, she reached into an inside pocket just to feel a hilt of a knife peeking from its hiding place.

Its owner must have slipped it in there before he left.

_F__í__li, you sneaky little _– She wrapped her fingers around the hilt, ready to defend herself, yet she did not pull it out as Tauriel's gaze unexpectedly landed on her.

"Head for the town", the she-elf said, "Find the dwarves. We will find you when we're done here."

Olwen furrowed her brow. "What if I run into Orcs?"

"Then I suggest you run fast."

**.**

**.**

**.**

After their narrow escape, Fíli should have been relieved that he was in one piece. However, the only thing he could feel was dread while he was sitting by his brother's bedside, unable to bring down his fever no matter what he attempted. Kíli's condition seemed to be getting worse by the hour, while his carefree, infectious grin was gone, replaced by a grimace as he groaned in pain.

"It's all right, Kíli. Look at me. It's all right." Fíli tried to sound comforting. Aulë help him, he tried. But, Kíli did not seem to hear him at all, angling a bit to the side before he weakly reached for the bandage around his leg. He was almost there when Fíli grabbed his hand, making sure he would not ruin his stitches. "_Mahal_, Kili."

The muffled whimper he got in reply frightened him, yet not as much as Kíli's breaths, laboured and so short that Fíli barely willed away a shudder. Leaning forward in his chair, he held his brother's hand between his own until another, barely audible sound reached his ear. He was not certain if it was a word, but then Kíli said it a bit louder:

"'Sorry."

"For what?"

"You stayed." His answer was barely a whisper, making Fíli shift even closer to hear it. "Fee, I'm sorry. You stayed... stayed behind... because of me."

Kíli's fingers curled around his, just like he used to do when he was little, startled by a nightmare, and Fíli became aware of his chest becoming painfully tight.

_"Nadadith."_ Swallowing thickly, he lowered Kíli's hand near the edge of the bed. "Please, listen to me."

Only then did he notice that Kíli had closed his eyes, having drifted into another restless sleep. With an exhausted sigh, Fíli picked up the piece of cloth he had discarded, going through the steps he had done so many times already. He dipped it into a bowl of cold water, wrung it and wiped Kíli's forehead before letting the cloth rest there, although he knew that would not help much. And then he let his mind wander to another dwarrow he was concerned about, probably halfway up the mountain.

With Oin and Bofur in Laketown with them, Fíli could not help but ponder if Thorin would succeed in defeating the dragon. He had only a part of the company by his side now, after all. However, he was soon pulled out of his reverie by a quiet voice, somewhere from his right.

"Is there something I can do to help?"

He looked up at Sigrid, the eldest daughter of Bard – the bargeman who had given them shelter when everyone else refused. Bard's younger daughter, Tilda, peeked behind her, gazing at Kíli whilst she clasped and unclasped her hands, looking as terrified as Fíli felt.

It wasn't long before Sigrid nodded, for she knew there was nothing left to be done. "I'll go and see where Da is."

She walked away with her sister, leaving him alone to wait – though he was unsure what he was waiting for. He might have been hoping for Kíli's fever to break, or Oin to brew some tea that would ease his brother's pain, or Thorin to finally enter the mountain, or the dragon to awaken and lay waste on everything – or perhaps he was waiting for all of that at the same time.

He sank back in his chair when a hand appeared in the corner of his eye, and he turned to discover that Tilda had come back, offering him a steaming bowl of stew left from their supper. He had no appetite, though, not when his stomach was clenched like a fist. Regardless, he accepted the stew, mustering what should be a smile.

And then Sigrid screamed.

The bowl fell from his grasp, shattering on the floor as he saw her topple over the doorstep. Having collapsed into the room with a thud, Sigrid made a frantic attempt to crawl away – while an Orc stepped into the house after her, his crooked blade glinting in the light of the hearth.

Fíli barely moved towards her when a crack rang out. Straw and pieces of thatch spilt over the kitchen, followed by an Orc who had jumped through the hole in the roof. More Orcs barged through the front door, furniture was shoved aside, and Fíli pulled Tilda behind his back as one of those creatures approached.

He did the first thing he could think of.

A kick to a nearby stool sent it flying into the Orc. He stumbled backwards and Fíli took his chance to lunge at him, tackling him to the floor, while the Orc's weapon clattered not far from them. They started to wrestle for the sword, sending the room into a spin as they both rolled around. The Orc then pinned Fíli against the floorboards, extending his free hand towards the hilt. However, Fíli twisted out of his attacker's grip, grabbing the heavy sword first, and he ploughed it into the Orc with all the strength he could muster.

_Keep moving, nephew. Never stop moving. _His uncles words, instilled in him during all the times they had sparred, forced him to wrench the sword out. Blood soaked his sleeve, yet he did not dare to think about it while he scrambled to his feet and bolted to help Sigrid.

He then realised he was too late. The Orc was already upon her, but Fíli ran for her anyway. Meanwhile, she had picked up a skillet to defend herself, giving it a last, desperate swing, but the Orc evaded it with ease before he pulled his sword back, ready to run her through.

That was when he stood utterly still, his eyes wide as he let out a low, gurgling sound. While Sigrid gasped and pulled away, Fíli halted in his tracks, staring at a hand that had appeared from behind the Orc, clutching a knife stuck in the creature's neck. For a moment, Fíli was certain that Bard had returned, until the Orc slumped sideways to reveal a woman with dark, windswept hair.

She was also wearing his coat.

_Aul__ë__'s anvil. _He did not manage to say a word, though. As an Orc turned up on her left, she flipped the knife in her hold – the same knife he had left for her – just to hurl herself into a brawl. A second Orc appeared then, and Fíli ducked to avoid his jagged blade. He moved fast after that, leaving a long cut over his opponent's leg, yet the Orc evaded his next attack with a sideways step, grabbed him by the hair, and slammed his head against the table.

The floor flew up to meet him.

A high-pitched ringing in his ears drowned out the screams and breaking pottery. His vision swam and he blinked a couple of times to clear it, when a heavy boot stepped on his neck and pressed him against the floor.

He grabbed the Orc's ankle, struggling to break free. He could not see him, but he did notice a figure on the floor, mere steps away. It was Olwen, curled on herself, clutching her shoulder as if she were in pain. And then her eyes held his, her face becoming set with a grim determination. While he squirmed on the floor in hopes of escaping, she moved her uninjured arm forward, just to settle her hand on an Orc long dead, lying on his side with a blade jutting from his chest.

The fight continued even when the dead Orc rose.

Meanwhile, Fíli went still in shock. The thing was not supposed to move, not after he had seen Oin stab it. However, the Orc was standing on his own now, as if the piece of metal between his ribs was nothing more than a graze. Once he grabbed the sword Fili had dropped, he charged forward, taking the other Orc by surprise, smashing his guard and slicing through his middle.

The unsuspecting Orc crumpled, and Fíli gasped and coughed, finally able to gulp in some air. Yet, he also turned sideways, looking back at Olwen. Having caught sight of her bleak expression, his veins turned into ice as it suddenly dawned on him what she was.

A necromancer.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

It was easier than she had imagined.

She had been convinced she would falter, that it would not work. Yet, the magic heeded her call in a blink, pulsating in her fingers like it had been waiting there for all this time. It was almost a relief, finally being able to do this, guiding the Orc's movements while he went after his former brothers in arms. Looking away from Fíli, she doubled her efforts, along with the strength of the Orc's swing.

The next Orc, chasing one of the girls, was stabbed in the back, whereas the other Orc shouted something in his language, unaware that what approached him was not his friend anymore. Meanwhile, her heart throbbed, and she knew that keeping the dead Orc upright leeched off her strength. But, she had to hold on, ignoring the pain. There was no giving up before Tauriel and Legolas arrived, and so she hauled herself to her feet, facing Orc number three, who was now running to her with a dagger in hand.

Grabbing a cutting board from the table, she shoved it in front of herself, and the Orc's blade went through it, stopping at the hilt. She twisted the plank then, trying to wrench the dagger from his grasp. He did not fight back, though, because something hit him from a nearby window – and Olwen blinked at the arrow in his head.

That was when more arrows came. The rest of the Orcs began to fall one by one as Tauriel darted into the room, not missing a single mark, while Legolas joined her soon after, having landed through a hole in the ceiling. With the skirmish quickly reaching its end, Olwen focused and severed the bond between her and the former Orc, letting him smack into the floor like a brick.

But, then her vision went greyish at the edges. Exhaustion caught up with her, along with the searing pain in her shoulder, and she stumbled before grabbing the kitchen countertop in the last moment. The magic had drained her enough to make her knees tremble – yet it also took away that feeling of total confidence, leaving a too familiar shame and regret in its wake.

_What in Valar's name have I done?_

"You –" Someone stammered, and she found the older girl stand up, shaking as she did so. Olwen did not blame her, though. In some other life, if a pack of Orcs had broken into her home, she would have been scared out of her wits, as well. "You – you killed them. All of them."

"There are others", Legolas said simply and stepped away from the mess, keeping his knives unsheathed. "Lock the door behind us. Tauriel, come."

Olwen closed her eyes, having remembered the last time she called upon her magic. She tried pushing those thoughts aside, like she had always done in the corner of her cell, yet this time they were as unstoppable as a flood, and her insides started to churn. She barely managed to duck behind a cabinet when her body gave way, expelling the contents of her stomach over the floor.

She did not know how long she had been there before she slumped against a wall, exhausted and trembling. Yet, during the time she spent there, the air inside the kitchen had gone cold with no warning, as if a sudden draught had entered the house. It was only when a candle flickered a couple of feet away from her that she raised her head. All windows were closed, and there was not a trace of the wind, but the candle still went out before her eyes.

She could feel it, though she could not fathom how.

A new sort of magic had awoken.

"Olwen! Olwen, come quickly!"

Tauriel was calling for her. Olwen turned in that direction, where everyone, including the elf, had gathered around a table. She also heard an agonizing groan from a figure lying on its surface. Hobbling closer, and trying to understand what was happening, she saw that Fíli's brother was the one in trouble. His trouser leg had been pushed up, while the sight of the wound below almost made her ill again. _So, that's why we're here._

"Keep your distance, lassie", someone said, and Olwen looked up at a dwarf with a grey beard and a battered ear trumpet in his grip, "I know what you are."

"There's no time for that", Tauriel told him, "Olwen, come. I need you to hold him still."

That was when Kíli jerked on the table, and Olwen gripped his shoulder as the she-elf continued to chant under her breath. Whatever they words meant, they appeared to be working since Kíli was not in pain anymore, staring blearily at Tauriel, instead. And then the elf fell silent, leaving the magic to fade as fast as it had emerged. In the meantime, Kíli's head lolled against a pile of spilt walnuts once sleep overcame him, unaware that Tauriel had moved her hands to examine his wound.

There was no infection, no dark lines branching over his leg. As for the wound itself, it was partially healed, as if a week had passed rather than a day and a half.

"He'll live", she added quietly.

Someone let out a heavy sigh and Olwen flinched, surprised to find out that it was Fíli, who seemed to have almost deflated with relief. While he leaned forward to rest his head on the table, beside his brother's neck, she became conscious of a glare that the other dwarf was giving her – which was why she chose to leave whilst she still could. Her assistance was no longer needed, anyway. Having drawn on the remains of her strength, she turned her back and started walking, holding on to every piece of furniture she passed in case her legs betrayed her.

"You're bleeding."

The voice caused her to stop mid-step. "It's nothing."

"Well, I can see a lot of 'nothing'."

"Don't go there, laddie", the elderly dwarf warned, making his way around the table with a creak of the floorboards, "The dark arts, that's what she does. She's dangerous."

To her complete surprise, Fíli got closer to her as she clung to a nearby windowsill. Since she did not move, he nodded towards the opposite end of the room.

"Let's get you to a chair", he stepped first in that direction, "You can lean on me if you need to. I won't mind."

She blinked, abruptly having no clue what to say. The people who had discovered what she was capable of usually cursed her, bolted in the opposite direction or – every so often – they would not refrain from doing both, and she found it difficult to believe that Fíli had done none of that. He was surely befuddled, judging by the look in his eyes, yet there was no revulsion, nor ill will.

"You're not running", she noticed flatly, too worn out to form the sentence into a question.

"If you wanted me dead, I would've perished already. I think I'll take my chances." He beckoned her to come closer. Although she was reluctant at first, the growing pain in her shoulder and the fact that she was hobbling prompted her to reach for him, letting him support a part of her weight as he guided her to a vacant, and mostly intact, chair. "Where else are you hurt?"

"It's just the shoulder." She sank into the chair, pushing back a groan. Yet, while she was cautiously shrugging out of the coat, she came to know that he had not left the fight unscathed, having wound up with a gash on the side of his forehead. "Fíli, you should get that looked at."

"That can wait a bit longer. But, this can't", he replied, gesturing at the arm she had managed to get free.

He moved to the side to take a piece of cloth, which by some miracle remained clean. And then he briefly stalled, gesturing at the baggy shirt she was wearing. Catching on to what he meant, Olwen felt a corner of her mouth twitch, and she used her free hand to pull down the edge of the garment, just enough to reveal the back of her shoulder.

"How is Kíli?", he asked then, casting a glance behind him.

"He's resting", Tauriel replied, "His fever is gone."

Fíli nodded, temporarily lost in thought, only to move behind the chair to see the extent of the damage, and Olwen clenched her jaw, unable to push back a groan when he pressed the cloth against her wound.

"Just breathe." His other hand rested lightly on her back, and she let out a breath that seemed odd and shaky to her ears. _"Mahal's_ _beard, _Olwen. The last time I saw you, you were really insistent on staying in that cell."

"I was. But, someone had slightly different plans." She clutched the edge of the chair while she did her best not to imagine what her wound might look like. "So much for 'just Fíli'", she added, giving a small emphasis at the last two words, "You never told me you're the heir to a throne."

"You never told _me_ you could raise the dead", he countered.

"Would you believe me if I had?"

He tilted sideways to look her in the eye. However, he did not manage to utter a word, because something beat him to it – a series of loud knocks on the front door.

Every mutter, every noise in the room abruptly ceased. The knocking was heard once more as Olwen angled her head towards it, yet nobody moved, from Kíli, Tauriel and Oin at the table, a dwarf she had not noticed before in the middle of the room, and the two sisters huddled near the edge of a window. All eyes were fixed on the broken door while whoever was on the other side tried to open it. The person was unsuccessful, though, given that someone had pushed a small cupboard in front to keep it closed.

Olwen hunched on the chair, believing that Legolas must have returned for some reason, until the younger lass peeked through the window just to retreat and whisper:

"The guards are here."

**To be continued.**

**In the meantime, please let me know what you think of this. It would mean a lot to me. :)**

**Translation:**

-Elbereth – Elven name for Varda, the Lady of the Stars

-nadadith – little brother (Khuzdul)


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello, everyone! I hope you're having a great summer so far (or winter **–** in that case, greetings from the other hemisphere ;) ).**

**When I started writing this story, I never thought I'd get a response such as this one, especially not after only three chapters. Thank you, dear readers, reviewers and followers, for your support **–**especially: _ro781727_ (**Thank you so much for your review! You are right about Olwen's powers; if she continues to rely on them, that _will_ cause consequences. For now, all I can say is this: keep an eye out for the chapters to come. ;) **), _lydo99_ (**Thank you! I hope you'll enjoy this chapter just as much as the previous one. :) **) and _MaryCo_** **(**Спасибо большое! I'm so happy to hear that you liked this story. Of course, I will keep writing – I have many more ideas that I didn't include in the chapters yet. I also wish you a lovely day! :) **).**

**I also have to mention you, _HorrorFan13, Pusteblume1991, Silversun XD, SumiJepson, Yurasen, lullabydono, moon1691, nine lifes, wicca7002, Alfred Jeppsson, Altean-purrincess, Carly Carnations, Carthya-Marie, Eala Bhan, Mathax, Night-Storms, One-Random-Thought, QuietTimeToday, UnknownReaderHasJoined, chimpnsocks, creativeLunatic, lilith-thetiny-monster, narcisse203, numbrfive, shell2523, tjmarielila_, _Annie-Mae29 _and _Erika Karvenberg_. Thank you for your favourites and/or choosing to follow this story!**

**And one more thing ****– I changed a few events from DoS, which means that Bard and Bain won't make an appearance in this chapter. But, they will come in the next one. I promise. :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit. This piece of writing is purely for entertainment.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR**

Fíli stepped back as the door lurched on its hinges. The guard had given it another push, and he managed to prise it open for an inch or so before he was stopped by the cupboard in his way. But, the bulky piece of furniture could not hold him off for good; after his every attempt to break in, it would shift a bit further across the floor, while the space for him to pull through only grew larger.

"Here, hold this", Fíli whispered to Olwen, letting go of the cloth on her shoulder. Having guided her hand there, he looped her free arm around his neck, only to tug her back on her feet. "Come with me. Come on."

A muffled groan escaped her while they retreated through the room, and he felt genuinely sorry. Yet, he could not stop. He had to get her as far from the door as possible, should the guards seek a fight. Ushering her towards one of the kitchen cabinets, he cast a glance behind him just as the door creaked further open.

"Wait. _Fili_." Olwen's voice was hardly a breath, but he turned his head, and he noticed the same thing she had. Another guard had appeared at a window nearby, and Fili ducked behind an overturned bench, with Olwen in tow.

"I know you're in there, Tilda", a voice shouted, followed by another bang on the door, "You, too, Sigrid. Don't think I can't see you hiding over there!"

"How many?", Fíli whispered. His eyes searched for Tilda, who was the closest to the door, and she raised four fingers. That was when his insides clenched. The feeling got worse once he looked on his right, where his brother lay. This house was not safe for them anymore, but escaping it would require time they did not have.

With the possibility of a fight getting stronger, he found himself turning to look at a kitchen knife, dropped on the floor behind him. He had no weapons when the Orcs arrived; he was not about to make the same mistake. However, he barely reached for it when, without a warning, a snarl drifted somewhere from outside.

Nobody dared to move as another one rang out, followed by a loud, sickening crash, as though a skirmish had broken out in one of the nearest streets.

"What in the name of –", a guard muttered, before he suddenly went quiet. "Braga, what are you doing?"

The only answer he received were steps, pounding over the floorboards, which caused Olwen to slump in relief. The other guards had ran off, heading straight for the fray, and – if the ensuing clatter of armour and weapons was anything to go by – his friends darted after him. Their voices faded within moments, drowned out by the faraway sound of metal striking metal.

In the meantime, nobody dared to make a sound, in case the guards chose to come back. That lasted until Tilda moved from her hiding spot by the door. Having looked at Tauriel on the other side of the room, the lass peered through the small gap between the door and the wall.

"What was that?", she asked in a low, horrified voice.

"There is nothing to fear", the she-elf told her, having made a few steps closer, "Legolas must have found the remaining Orcs. They will not bother you any longer."

"You're saying there are _more_ of those creatures?"

Though Tauriel probably said something in return, Fíli did not hear it. He was now looking at the dead Orcs and their weapons, scattered through the kitchen, his mind reeling from what had happened.

He was still glaring at them when Olwen suddenly pushed herself up, clutching the bench beside her, her face flushed with exertion.

"Hey, stay still. Stay still." Having whirled around, he reached out, his hand hovering just above her bandage. It had already soaked through. He stood for a moment, pondering on where to find another cloth, when he gazed to the side and found – "Oin!"

The healer was still alive, and he silently thanked whomever was watching over them as Oin crouched beside them, with his ear trumpet in one hand and his old apothecary bag in the other.

"Oin, stay with her. I'll be back as soon as I can."

As he pushed himself back to his feet, the healer lifted the ear trumpet, probably hoping that he had heard something wrong. "You want me to stay?"

Fíli nodded. In another time, he would have stayed as well to assist the healer, and to make sure she was all right. However, he had a more pressing matter to attend to.

"The guards will get in here", he said, "We can't stop them, that is certain. But, we can make sure they don't find out what happened and arrest us all."

Olwen frowned at him for a bit, clinging to the bench. "What do you have in mind?"

Fíli glanced at the Orcs and their weapons, scattered over the room. He was not so enthused about what was going to happen next, and he sought comfort in the fact that, the sooner he started, the sooner he would finish it. And so he pushed himself up and walked away.

Someone needed to clean up this place.

**.**

**.**

**.**

She could not stop shaking.

The cold air and the growing, throbbing pain in her shoulder were not the only reasons, however. Another culprit was exhaustion, the kind that would catch up with her every time she reached for her magic, making her wonder how she could even stand. Throughout her stay in the dungeon, she had almost forgotten how the consequences felt like, and a part of her was relieved that she would not have to go through it all again. Muttering a curse under her breath, she bowed her head until it rested against one of the kitchen cabinets.

She also hoped that the dwarf healer, who was currently stitching her wound, would finish his work soon.

Even though Oin was not the most talkative person, his sullen expression had betrayed all his displeasure with being in the same room with her. But, not once had he left her side. While everyone else had scattered through the house to dispose of the Orc corpses, the dwarf sat beside her, already pulling supplies out of his apothecary bag and helping her ease out of her ruined tunic. If that was not strange enough, the realisation that he stayed to take care of her shoulder filled her with disbelief.

Meanwhile, the other occupants of the house decided to keep their distance – the lass named Sigrid in particular. When Olwen caught her gaze once, she almost immediately turned away, pretending to be occupied with a bowl of herbs on her right. She also began to slowly inch towards the opposite side of the room, to which Olwen sighed in resignation. Sigrid was clearly afraid of her, and there was nothing left to be done about it.

She winced all of a sudden, pulled from her thoughts whilst Oin added another stitch. Although he was sitting behind her, she turned her head to the side as much as she could until she caught a glimpse of his hands.

"We're on the same side, master dwarf", she said, loudly enough for him to hear without his trumpet, "Otherwise, I wouldn't have used my power just on Orcs."

"I still don't know who you are." Having tugged at the end of the thread, the dwarf paused, "But, I know enough about your kind. Especially that you can do much more than this. What guarantees do I have that you won't turn on us the moment you see fit?"

"None. Except for my word."

"A word from someone who practices the dark arts."

"Well, since you mentioned it, that does sound a bit discouraging. It's better than nothing, though."

The healer was certainly far from assured. He also seemed to be done, because he moved into her line of sight, placing aside the needle and thread, and his eyes dwelled to the other supplies he had arranged nearby.

"I guess I'll have to hold you to it", he said gruffly, picking up a strip of clean cloth. But, then something made him look back at her. "Nevertheless, you should know this. If you harm anyone from the company, or the children, you will answer to me. That is _my_ word."

"Fair enough." Olwen offered a hand for the healer to shake. "So, do we have a truce now?"

In all honesty, she knew Oin would not take it. And since that did not happen, the disappointment she felt was just slight. Letting the silence fall between them, the healer unrolled the cloth, winding it around her arm with the swiftness that spoke of a long experience.

"Try to get some rest, lass." That was all he said before he tied the bandage off and left to pack his belongings. What came as a surprise, though, was how quickly he did it. By the time Olwen took Fíli's coat to cover herself, he was already shuffling to the other room, while the brown garment in her hands became her only company.

Of course, there was also Kíli. Yet, having a chat with him might be difficult, given that he was asleep.

She had to admit it concerned her, seeing him so still in the bed nearby. Since Fíli and Oin had carried him there, he did not stir at all, despite his cheek being pressed uncomfortably against the mattress. However, she had to remind herself that he was getting better. Some colour that had begun returning to his face was one of the signs.

"I feel that I must apologise, Olwen."

She turned towards the voice, only to find Tauriel, who was now standing at the opposite end of the cabinet.

"I pleaded with you to join me, knowing full well that this was not your fight", the she-elf clarified.

"There is no need to fret about it", Olwen told her, "The fault is not _entirely_ yours. If you recall, I was the one who'd agreed to leave the dungeon behind."

Tauriel's reply was a feeble smile and a nod, so small that it was almost unnoticeable. She lingered by the cabinet for a while, after which she took a few tentative steps through the kitchen, halting at Kíli bedside.

"Your intervention saved a few lives tonight." She darted a brief glance at Olwen. "How do you feel about it?"

"That won't erase my misdeed so easily, you know."

"I never said it would." Having knelt beside the bed, Tauriel slowly reached out and rested her hand against Kíli's forehead, searching for any sign of a fever. "Still, you have the right to be glad about this. An entire pack of Orcs is gone thanks to your help."

Olwen was tempted to say she felt nothing. But, she refrained from it, because that would have been a lie. The notion that her power had saved someone, although it involved raising a dead Orc, was rather pleasing to her; there was no use in denying it. And perhaps it made the pain she was in a tad more bearable.

Yet, she was not quite satisfied, as there was a thought that continued to prey on her mind. At first, she fought off the urge to look away, only to give in soon after, letting her gaze wander to the floorboards behind Tauriel. She saw a jagged blade embedded into the wood, as well as a corpse sprawled near it, belonging to the same Orc who had tried to run Fíli through. It might have been a while, but her stomach still twisted at the memory.

"These Orcs were quite... resolved to stop the dwarves", she mused, "The last time I heard, they would not pursue anyone all the way to Mirkwood and beyond."

"Then I am relieved we got here in time", Tauriel said in a hushed tone, averting her gaze from Kíli.

"But, you have to agree something's not right."

"There is nothing right when it comes to Orcs." The she-elf moved to sit at the edge of the bed. "I have to concur with you, however. All of this is truly strange."

Olwen would have been satisfied, if Tauriel had not stalled before saying that. As the elf glanced one more time at Kíli, her brow furrowed, as if she were hesitating.

As though she were hiding a thing or two.

_Who says that elves and men are so_ different? Olwen felt the corner of her lips curve. Though she was not yet certain, she had a nagging feeling that there was much more to the dwarves and their quest than she thought. Whatever that might be, she certainly would not find it out from Tauriel, since she did not appear willing to share what she knew. But, that did not mean Olwen could not investigate on her own, once she got her chance for it.

"At least this is over and done with." She tried to move, gritting her teeth when she accidentally pulled her stitches. "Speaking of which, where do we go from here?"

"We will wait for Legolas to return, and find out what he had seen. And then your path will be of your choosing."

"How so?"

"I asked you to come with me and help the dwarves, which you did. I will not force you to follow me any further." No sooner did Tauriel say it than she went quiet. She tilted her head to the side, in a way one would after making a puzzling discovery. "You did not expect that."

"Yes – no. I mean, I –" Olwen stopped, having realised that she was stuttering. She had hardly considered the possibility that, one day, she could just walk away from this. In fact, she was convinced she would meet the sharp end of an Orc sword long before gaining her freedom. However, there she was, bruised and far too exhausted to stand up, yet remaining in one piece.

"I am serious." Tauriel leaned closer, keeping her voice low when she added: "You can go anywhere you wish, choose any trade that has your interest. With a little assistance, of course." She detached a small bag, around the size of a fist, off her belt and handed to Olwen. "I believe this will cover your expenses until you get there."

Olwen took the bag, completely lost for words. But, the coins she had seen inside it were not the reason. Rather, it was the dread that was steadily pooling in her gut.

She might be lucky to find a new place to call home. Yet, whichever city, town or village she settled in, there was always a chance she would unleash her magic in front of someone. _With so many bones buried in the earth, it is bound to happen_, she had been told, seemingly ages ago, _All you need to do is wait long enough._

"Have I said something wrong?", Tauriel asked.

"No. It's just –" Wrapping herself further in the coat, Olwen managed a shrug with one shoulder. "People like me do not tend to have happy endings."

"You might be surprised where the road takes you."

"I'm not so sure about that."

_"Tauriel."_

The hoarse whisper made them both whirl around, and they suddenly realised that Kíli was awake.

Olwen scooted near the bed, wondering how much of the conversation he had heard. But, the dwarf did not seem to notice her, having turned his head in Tauriel's direction. Judging by his gaze, which kept wandering across the room, he was not completely there yet.

That was when he moved his hand. He had barely the strength to do it, but he did not give up until it stopped at the end of the mattress. Before Olwen could ask him or the elf what was happening, Kíli hung his hand over the edge – which turned out to be just enough for his calloused fingers to brush against Tauriel's.

And the she-elf did not pull her hand back.

_What in the name of... oh. Oh._ Olwen stared at them in a long silence, most likely with her mouth agape. Now she understood why Tauriel had been so keen on finding him, and why she would risk the wrath of her king, even her life. Still, that did not make Olwen any less baffled.

While seconds dragged on, she started to feel like an intruder in that place, and she got the urge to make herself scarce. Unfortunately, being unable to push herself to her feet, she had to settle for turning away instead and facing the opposite wall. That is, after daring to sneak one more glance at the two of them.

They were a peculiar sight, without a doubt. However, Olwen had to confess there was something endearing about them; especially once Tauriel intertwined her fingers with his, unaware that somebody was watching, which brought a relieved smile to Kíli's face.

The talk about parting ways would certainly have to wait.

**.**

**.**

**.**

With a hand pressed against a wall for support, Olwen hobbled forward. She was trying to move as quietly as possible, but the unnatural silence in the house made every noise, no matter how small, appear deafening. Even the pot that hung above the hearth seemed to bubble too loudly, let alone the floorboards creaking beneath her feet. Regrettably, things were not about to change while everyone waited for the guards to return.

During that wait, the lasses and their guests alike took turns in keeping watch, hunched over in a window seat by the stairs. Tauriel had been the first to volunteer, just to be replaced later by Sigrid, and Tilda was next – at least that was Olwen's calculation, until she approached the wooden bench and found someone else sitting there.

"How is your head?", she asked.

Fíli looked away from the window, his eyes widening the instant he saw her. "You should be resting."

"Not when we're expecting company." She grasped the back of the furniture before sinking into the empty space beside him. "I take it they're not here yet."

He did not answer, gazing at her for a long moment. Now that she was close enough, she noticed the bruise darkening around the gash on his brow, while his plaits had come undone, letting his hair fall in unruly waves.

"How did you do that?", he questioned all of a sudden.

"What exactly?", she wondered, though she could have guessed what he was referring to.

"I drove a sword through that Orc myself. He was dead..." Fíli trailed off, his voice low in disbelief. "And then he was not. You laid a hand on him and brought him back, as if nothing had happened."

"I did not." Having seen his confused look, she added: "The Orc was not back. Not in the way you think."

She stalled after that, searching for the right words. However, she was soon taken aback by how difficult that would be. It dawned on her that she had no clue where to begin. For as long as she could remember, no one had ever asked her to _explain _what she did.

"Have you seen a puppet show before?", she improvised, and he nodded, "This is quite similar. But, instead of wood, the puppets are flesh and bone."

His eyes grew wide in the shadows.

Olwen inwardly winced. He had most likely imagined it all, the bodies rising and hobbling around. Yet, there had been no other way for her to say it. Considering she had revealed her abilities to him, which would possibly give him nightmares for days to come, she felt somewhat obliged to speak the truth. _Or a part of it_, she thought.

"They can pick up a blade and fight – as you saw", she continued. Evading his eyes, she began to pick at the crusted Orc blood around her fingernails. "But, the moment the magic ends, they simply fall. Whatever made them who they were... I guess it ceased to exist."

For a while, the crackling hearth was the only thing fending off the silence, until Olwen forced herself to meet Fíli's gaze. That was when she frowned in bewilderment. His initial shock had been gone, whilst some emotion she could not identify flickered across his face.

"What's the matter?", she asked in the end.

"It's nothing." A crease emerged on his brow. "I just thought your magic worked differently."

It was then that she grasped what he truly meant. Surprised for not having noticed it earlier, she rested her elbows against her knees, not looking away from him.

"You lost someone", she said.

He said nothing to that, sneaking another look through the window beside him. Though his face did not reveal anything, Olwen saw the pain in his eyes, and only then did she find out that she was right.

"My father", he uttered then, "When I was little."

She wanted to know what had happened to him, but she did not ask. That was not what Fíli needed to hear. With her chin in her hand, she gave him a sad smile.

"I thought of bringing back those I loved", she admitted, "On a few occasions, I was almost willing to do it."

"Why didn't you?", Fíli questioned in surprise.

"A few necromancers had tried it. And it did not matter how they used their craft. Their kin, their lovers, they always returned different. Deformed."

Her answer appeared to have saddened him. "Like the Orc you sent to my aid", he said in a low voice.

"It is said that is the worst kind of pain. Doing everything in your power to bring someone back, only to find out they are truly lost to you." She shook her head, mostly to herself. "You cannot recover from that."

In the stillness that ensued, she became certain that this conversation had gone too far. The night was tense enough as it was without talking of the past.

"It must have been a shock, to see a deceased Orc run through the house", she added, making a pitiful attempt to lighten up the mood.

To her astonishment, a wry smile appeared underneath his mustache. "I cannot say I was expecting that."

"If it's any consolation, now you know why I wasn't so interested in leaving the dungeon."

"And I still don't. You never said it."

Whether he had anything else to tell her, he kept it to himself, because something on the other side of the window had drawn his attention. Olwen followed his gaze, just in time to spot a lone figure rushing through the darkness, heading past a wide canal that separated the house they were in from the neighbour's.

It could have been one of the guards, on his way back. As she tensed up at the idea, her hand slid down to her shoe, where she was hiding the knife Fili had given her. Yet, she halted once the stranger outside stepped into the light of a lantern. It was a mere fisherman by the looks of him, with a sack slung over his back.

That was when she felt Fíli's gaze on her. And she realised that he was still waiting for her answer despite everything, genuinely interested to hear it.

"I made a mistake", she confessed, in hopes that would satisfy his curiosity, "I did not wish it to happen again, so I left for Mirkwood to lock myself away."

"Isn't an elvish dungeon a bit too much?"

"You don't know what I did."

Perhaps she had said it harsher than intended since, in the corner of her vision, Oin had turned to glance at them, lifting his battered ear trumpet. He must have been keeping an eye on her, just in case that he needed to honour his promise. Not that she blamed him for it.

"Olwen", Fíli told her, shifting her attention back to him. It was then that, for a reason she did not understand, he became oddly solemn. "Thank you. For coming here."

She blinked, having not expected that. "You're welcome."

Unsure what else to say, she did the first thing that crossed her mind, which was turning towards the window. Although the glass was already lined with frost, she managed to discern the line of wooden houses across from theirs. But, her gaze was soon drifted upwards, to a dark shape that loomed above the rooftops.

It took her a while to realise that she was looking at the outline of Erebor. Even under the cover of darkness, the mountain was impressive, yet the longer she gazed at it, the more uneasy she began to feel. There was something almost sinister in the way it peered from the shadows, and she could only wonder why the dwarves would want so desperately to reclaim that place.

_Speaking of dwarves... _Having cast a look over her shoulder, she noticed that a few of Fíli's companions were missing. Quite a few, if she recalled correctly.

"I thought there would be more of your kin", she mused, "While they were sneaking out of your cells, a fair number of them walked past our door."

"You are not mistaken", Fíli replied, "They were here, for a while. But, Kíli's wound was getting worse, so I decided to stay behind with him. Oin, as well."

"What of your uncle?"

"He..." The dwarf hesitated, a concerned frown returning to his face. He glanced at the opposite side of the house, where his brother's bed was. "We were running out of time, so to speak. And he could not wait."

"Oh." She briefly fell silent, finding it hard to understand why his uncle would leave behind his nephews and heirs, one of them being seriously ill. "I assume he was not too pleased about your decision."

"Not at all. But, he could not make me change my mind. Years ago, I'd told Kíli we would enter the halls of Erebor together, and I was not about to go back on my word."

Fíli's eyes soon drifted to the window, and Olwen followed his example, squinting at the Lonely Mountain's silhouette. She knew that it was of great importance to the dwarves, yet she still had no idea what the Orcs would gain for stopping them. _If only one of that pack was alive, I might get some_ answers, she told herself.

It was then that it hit her.

A small part of her told her not to do it. It would be dangerous, without a doubt. However, she ended up pushing herself up and off the window seat, determined to give it a go. After all, she had grown tired of everyone keeping secrets from her, the she-elf included. She needed to know what was truly happening in this place.

"Wait." Fíli turned after her. "Where are you going?"

Before he could go after her, she hobbled through the nearest door and went down a flight of stairs, cautiously making her way to the wharf room below. She had to be quick, though, if she wanted this to work. The longer she waited, the less she would find out.

The room she entered was small. Open at one end to the canal, it was almost on the same level as the water, which softly splashed against the house. Having descended the stairs, Olwen moved forward until the wooden floor was gone and the water began, and she stared down at the ripples in front of her feet.

It was no wonder why this place had been chosen for disposing of Orc corpses. The lake was so dark that they would possibly never be found.

She only hoped that it was not that deep.

Having slipped out of Fíli's coat, she left it to the side. It was then that she slowly lowered herself on her knees, and then on her stomach, so close to the edge that the tip of her nose almost touched the lake. With a shudder, she reached out with her unscathed arm and – before the nerves would get the better of her – she shoved it into the water, all the way up to her shoulder.

It was cold. So horribly cold. Her entire arm felt as if she had dug it into a hole full of needles, yet she did her best to ignore it as she moved her fingers through the pitch black water, seeking anything that would be of use to her.

And she found it.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt something below. She turned her hand, trying to figure out the shape she had stumbled upon. _It feels like fingers. I think I found an Orc's hand _– _no, wait. These are too_ _small for fingers_. A shudder went through her. _Valar help me. I'm holding on to someone's toes. _Disgusted, she thought of pulling her arm out of the water, but she could not afford to stall any more. That was why she wrapped her own fingers around the Orc's foot, summoning the magic that had never truly left her side.

The foot slipped out of her hand. She opened her eyes just in time to find the water rippling, as if something had moved beneath the surface. Having wrenched her arm out, she tried to scuttle away, yet she did not get far when a grimy face emerged from the depths.

Although she was familiar with this kind of magic, she had never used it on an Orc before. However, her attempt turned out to be successful. The creature she had touched raised its head out of the frigid lake, and it was now staring back at her with blank, unseeing eyes.

As her strength had started ebbing away, Olwen pushed herself into a sitting position, drawing a shaky breath. She had learnt long ago that, in spite of a person being dead, their memories would cling on to them for a short while; the rule must have applied on the Orc, as well. Yet, that also meant that those memories were fading with every passing minute. The thought of it made her push all her misgivings aside. _It is now or never._

"Why are you here?", she demanded, "Why is the Lonely Mountain that important to you?"

The Orc twitched in the water. Whilst she was sitting there, fending off the tiredness, she watched as the Orc slowly unstuck his lips.

"The mountain will soon belong to them", he replied at last, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"To whom?"

"They are marching from the south." He twitched once more. "Hundreds. Thousands. They are already on the move. When they come, it will be too late."

A chill crawled up her spine. "Do you speak of Orcs?"

"_Bolg will not accept failure_", the creature said in a deeper voice, probably belonging to someone else from his memory. His tone then returned to its previous height. "Find the dwarves. Leave none alive."

"Where will this attack happen? On which day?" Aware of her heart thudding in her chest, she knew she could not hold on much longer. "Answer me!"

The Orc inclined his head, as a person would when trying to hear someone better. It filled her with unease that someone dead was doing the same. But, then the Orc shattered the silence with a single word:

"Gundabad."

"On what day?", she repeated, louder this time.

"Gundabad", the Orc rasped, "Gundabad."

Hardly did he utter the word than she was forced the stop the magic; and the next thing she recalled was reeling from the water, her breath coming in short pants. Her shivers became so much worse that she barely managed not to crumple across the floorboards.

Something wet, and far too warm to be lake water, was trickling down her chin. She recognised it as blood, yet she did not make an effort to wipe it. Instead, she remained stunned on the floor, gawping at the spot where the Orc's head had been seconds ago. It had slipped back into the lake, but that did not matter.

With an army of Orcs on its way, plenty of things that once concerned her no longer mattered.

**To be continued.**

**Until next time, please, let me know what you think of this chapter - or if you have any ideas you wish to share. I would appreciate every feedback (even if it is only a couple of words)! :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Dear readers, I hope this year has been kind to you so far. I wish you good luck in the months to come, and may all your dreams come true!**

**A new chapter was long overdue, and I am sorry for not coming back sooner. I landed a new job, which consumed most of my spare time until now. But, I will not give up on this story just yet. :)**

**Furthermore, t****hank you, _ArticWolf0709_, _Nahal_, _animexchick_, _crh1289_, _floorspace24_, _ANIMEFAN426_, _Copycat25_, _GodzillaSquatch91_, _Lumiere D'Amour_, _Melanina_, _Shannyrox101_, _Thehonourableermine_, _eeemkaaayy_, _justKILIme, lysia1982, _and last but not least,_ AroVolturi,_**** for your interest in this story, as well as your favourites and follows.  
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**I have to add a special thank you to _ro781727_. I will always be grateful for your support. And thank you, _eeemkaaay_ and _Copycat25_, for your lovely reviews. In a moment of doubt, your words gave me the courage to keep writing.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit. This piece of writing is made purely for entertainment.**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE**

The water was still rippling from the Orcs disappearance when Olwen groaned, scrambling to her feet.

She had to warn the others. Although it might be difficult to explain how she knew about the army - especially _who_ had told her - it did not swayed her in the slightest. Having wiped her face with her sleeve, she was about to begin her stagger back into the house when a creak, quiet and sudden, made her wheel around; and she stared at the figure that was now beside her.

For how long Fíli had been there, she was uncertain. Even so, he must have seen enough of her interrogation. Olwen could find no other reason why he remained where he was, staring wide-eyed at the lake below. However, his silence was not what concerned her the most. Had it not been for the wind, playing with a few strands of his hair, he would have appeared utterly frozen in place.

"Fíli?", she breathed. That prompted him to finally shift, and he averted his gaze from the water. "We're in trouble."

"Really?", he replied flatly.

"Look, we don't have much time left." The thought of a horde of beings, like the one she had spoken to, sent a shudder through her. "The Orcs could be here soon enough."

His frown deepened. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Aye. Far from Laketown."

Her legs were not as steady as she had expected, yet she kept going nonetheless, ambling for the staircase. That is, until she heard Fíli's steps approaching.

"You won't make it far, hobbling like that", he pointed out, doing his best to catch up.

"As long as I'm not around when they come, the distance won't matter." Olwen picked up the pace, but he was faster, darting in front of her only to halt at the bottom of the stairs. She soon stopped, as well. "You're in my way."

"They are coming from the south", he said in a low voice.

"I know", she replied impatiently, "I heard." She took a step sideways, trying to move around him. He did not let her, though. Instead, he rushed up the stairs before he halted once more, this time on the third step, and she let out a small huff. "Fíli, that's enough. I must go."

"There's only one road leading here, not counting the Mirkwood path", he added, "They may already be on it."

"If I make haste, I might not run into them."

"Are you willing to take that chance?"

Olwen eyed him in bewildrement, having realised they were at the same height. The steps beneath his feet had made him as tall as her and, in a different time, she would have found it almost endearing. But, now her thoughts turned to a more pressing matter.

The longer she entertained the idea of running down the road, the more faults she saw in her plan. And though unwillingly, she had to admit that the dwarf was right. Even if she left the town at once, there was no telling when she would stumble upon the Orcs. Nonetheless, she held her ground, along with his gaze.

"I can handle a few Orcs, but not an army", she said quietly. To her embarrassment, her fear pushed through, causing her voice to quiver. "I cannot stay here."

"It looks like we both have to".

She caught sight of Fili's hand shaking on the chair before he tightened his grip. He must have been as afraid as she was. But, she was unsure what to say to him, which was why she kept going. This time, Fili stepped out of her way, letting her reach the familiar - and pleasantly warm - kitchen.

Sadly, her relief did not last. As it turned out, she had chosen to come in the middle of an argument between Sigrid and Tauriel, with Óin listening from close by.

"-no word since they left", Sigrid spoke, gesturing towards the front door, "None. And it's been hours."

"It's too dangerous", Tauriel warned her, "You could get caught before you reach the next street."

"They could be in trouble. I have to find them."

"Who?", Olwen wondered out loud.

Sigrid flinched away, startled by her presence. Meanwhile, Tauriel faced her slowly as though she had known that Olwen was there all along. And it was then that Olwen felt anger kindling in her gut. If the she-elf had not persuaded her to leave the dungeon, none of this would have happened.

"Her father and brother", Tauriel replied, "They left the house a while ago and they have not returned."

"That is not our only problem", Fili's voice interjected.

All of a sudden, everyone turned towards him, and Olwen knew exactly what would happen. The others would not take the news well. Perhaps she would have betted on that, if she had not been growing tenser by the second.

_First thing's first._ As Fíli started talking, she quickly drew Tauriel's attention, motioning towards the furthest corner of the house. They needed to talk, the sooner the better. Thankfully, the elf took the hint and they slipped away, halting by one of the covered windows.

"An Orc army is approaching", Olwen uttered, keeping her voice low, "They're coming from the south. And fast."

The moment she had said it, Tauriel became more serious than she had ever seen her.

"How do you know?", the elf whispered.

"A little bird whispered to me - or perhaps a little Orc." Unwilling to wait for her reply, Olwen sighed. "Do not lie to me, Tauriel. Did you know it would come to this? Is this why I am really here - to fight for your cause?"

Although the she-elf said nothing, there was a slight shift in her expression. For the briefest of moments, she seemed apprehensive, which Olwen understoood well. This was the first time she had used her power twice in one night.

"I had no such intention", the elf said icily, "This I swear on the stars." Soon after, she glanced around, making sure that nobody was close enough to hear them. "Do you know more?"

"There will be thousands of them, he said. Whoever gives the orders really dislikes these dwarves."

Barely did she say it when a movement stole her attention, causing her to lean to the side and glance behind Tauriel. Not far from them, Óin had slumped in the nearest seat, staring in front of himself, while Tilda appeared from somewhere just to cling to Sigrid. Fili had probably broken the news, by the looks of things.

"Olwen. What do you know?"

She winced at Tauriel's call, quickly shifting her focus back to the elf. "Right", she muttered to herself before continuing from where she had left off. "Gundabad. The Orc kept mentioning Gundabad, but he did not say why."

For the briefest of moments, Tauriel appeared confused. "Gundabad is north from here. Yet, the army is not."

_That is a bit odd. _"What do you think is out there?"

"I do not know. But, I know this - the family cannot stay here. They must find a place to hide."

"That won't happen."

Olwen and Tauriel whirled around, abruptly aware that Sigrid was standing behind them.

"We're not leaving without Bain and Da", she added.

"If you are so eager to find them, then do it", Olwen said, "Nobody is going to stop you."

"I can't leave Tilda here."

"You won't leave her with _ me_, you mean."

Though Sigrid had fallen silent, her look showed what she did not dare to say. Olwen let out an exasperated sigh. If she had a sister herself, she would have also had qualms about leaving her in a necromancer's company. Despite that, Olwen had begun to feel irked by it all - that is, until something else abruptly crossed her mind.

Perhaps she was trapped in here. Yet, she was not going to sit on her hands and wait for the Orcs to arrive. Having placed a hand on the back of a chair, leaning against it for support, she turned fully to Sigrid.

"Your brother and father", she started, with a plan taking roots in her thoughts, "Did they say something?"

"Um, yes. I heard them mention the Master's house." Sigrid's brow knitted slightly, as if she had not expected that question. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I will find them for you."

Her baffled expression was nearly amusing, but Olwen remained serious.

"No." This time, it was Tauriel who spoke. "What if the guards come after you? What will you do then?"

"I will not sit on my hands and wait for the Orcs to come", Olwen answered, "I might as well make myself useful. And if that means finding her family, so be it."

Frankly, a part of her doubted this was a good idea. Yet, she decided to push on, before the little courage she had mustered was gone, and she focused back on Sigrid.

"Show me the way."

Sigrid did not hesitate this time. Having turned on her heel, she made it to the nearest window, pulling the curtain away just as Olwen made her way beside her. That was when Sigrid pointed a finger at one of the town houses, outlined against the light of the lanterns.

_That's... quite impressive, _Olwen thought. The house of the so-called Master was unlike any she had seen, narrow and with sharp edges, dwarfing the surrounding buildings. What made it seem even taller was the spire that rose out of its roof, like a watchtower of old.

"It is guarded at all times", Sigrid said, gazing at the building in apprehension, "I just hope Bain and Da are not in there. You will not get past the doors."

Before Olwen could say a word, someone stepped in between them, and she was a bit taken aback to find Tilda there. She still stood close to Sigrid, though.

"There is a shortcut. Over the rooftops." Ignoring Sigrid's puzzled look, the lass stole a glance through the window. "They're really steep, but they're leaning against each other - all the way to the house."

"How do you know that?", Sigrid asked.

"Bain showed me. Last summer." Tilda then looked at Olwen. "They won't see you from below. I'm sure."

Olwen let out a small sigh, her attention shifting up to the gaping hole in the ceiling, left by their guests. She almost regretted offering her help; yet, there was no going back now. She glanced around, searching, until her gaze landed on the kitchen table; and she went for it at once, hauling herself on top of its surface.

"Tauriel, could you help me a bit?", she wondered.

In a few steps, so light that the floorboards did not creak, the she-elf climbed on the table, as well.

"I hope you know what you are doing", she told her, just loud enough for Olwen to hear. She reached out then, her hands held together and fingers interlaced.

Olwen nodded, though her misgivings slowly grew. Honestly, she was also uncertain of how this would turn out. A part of her regretted accepting this task in the first place. Still, she raised her foot and Tauriel pushed her through the hole in the roof and into the freezing night outside. Clinging to the surrounding thatch, Olwen then clambered up, to the ridge not far from her.

The path to it was quite slippery, though.

"By the Valar's - !" A gasp escaped her as she nearly fell, after which she tightened her grip on the roof. Unfortunately, even that was difficult. Every piece of thatch was covered in frost, making her feel as though she was walking over a patch of ice.

"Are you well?", Tauriel's voice drifted from the house.

"Splendid", she muttered in reply. Choosing carefully where to hold on, she slowly, reluctantly, moved to the ridge, where she sat down by throwing one leg over it, and took in her surroundings.

_Well, at least I won't get lost. _Even in the lack of sunlight, the house was impossible to miss. Squinting at the top of the spire, she hoped that the rest of Sigrid's family was not in there.

She pressed both hands against the roof, but she did not get a chance to move, as someone emerged from the same hole she had, cautiously making his way to her.

"Fíli?", she whispered, watching him reach for the top of the room. However, the ridge remained beyond his fingertips, and she quickly leaned forward, offering her hand to him. "What are you doing?"

His hand closed around hers. "I'm coming with you."

"I don't need your help."

"You don't know what Bard looks like." His boots scraped against the shingles as he tried to climb. Realising that he would not give up, she helped him by pulling him up with all her strength. "And I owe him. So, I'm not going back."

For a moment, telling him to stay put crossed her mind. But, not because she wished to be alone. If she had trouble climbing the roof, she could only imagine what it would be like for a dwarf. Nevertheless, she chose to say nothing about it; they had a man and his son to find, and she had no idea how much time they had left.

She scooted slightly, letting him climb beside her.

**.**

**.**

With every rooftop they traversed, the winter tightened its grip further around them. They had not made it far when Olwen's breath started turning into steam. Unfortunately, retreating to the house without bard was out of the question, and their only path went forward as she clambered behind Fíli. Having seen him pass the next ridge, she slowly grasped the shingles above her, careful not to raise her injured arm too high.

"You've made a quite... daring escape, I heard", he whispered on her way up. She halted, though, since Fíli had peered from the other side of the roof.

"What did you hear?", he asked just as quietly.

"Something about barrels and drunken guards. And a waterfall." Olwen smiled in relief when he grasped her forearm, helping her clamber over the ridge and to the spot where he had settled himself. "If we somehow survive this, I'd like to know the whole story."

His eyebrows raised, as though the prospect amused him a little.

"And you shall." No sooner did he promise than he turned away. Yet, the troubled expression that passed his face did not escape her. He remained still for a while, watching something she could not see. "The dawn is not far."

"Aye", she breathed. Having settled on the ridge beside him, she took in their surroundings, only to feel that old unease pulling her taut, like an archer's hand would do to a bowstring.

It was unnerving, the thought of a horde of monsters marching for this place - and the fact that she did not know when that would happen. She muttered a curse, angry at herself for not obtaining more answers from the dead Orc. If she held on for a bit longer, she could have had something useful. But, all she could do now was make guesses, each sounding worse than the last.

The townspeople might have only days to prepare.

Unless they had just hours.

_By the Valar, I hope I'm wrong. About all of it. _Despite the thought, Olwen caught herself reaching down to the leg of her breeches. She patted down the fabric, searching until she felt the shape of Fíli's knife, the one he had left in his coat. It was a cold comfort to her, yet it was comfort still. If anything, she would have something other than her hands to defend herself with.

"I'll go first", Fíli suddenly whispered. Holding on to loose pieces of thatch, he began his slow descent towards the end of the roof, and Olwen - after a brief moment to steel herself - carried on as well. She grasped the same place he had before skidding closer to the edge. That is, until flickering lights on her right caused her to stop.

She already knew there were guards below the roof. There was no need for her to move closer. Yet, she did so anyway, moving inch by inch before she grasped the side of the roof, which overlooked a canal below. Almost at the same time, the guards rushed past the water, most of them carrying torches. Their reddish light made her think of fireflies as the men sped off into the night.

_They found something. They wouldn't be so quick_ _otherwise_. Wondering what it might be, she glanced to the side, where Fili had just appeared. Not daring to make a sound, she raised a hand to draw his attention.

However, that was all she managed when a noise reached her ears. Low and crackling, it appeared to be coming from beneath the place they were crouching on.

And then the roof collapsed.

She did not recall much after that. In one heartbeat, she saw the part below Fíli break off. In the other, her shoulder was burning, for she was kneeling on the edge of the roof, with the dwarf hanging from her grip. Barely did she cry out when his weight yanked her down, and she shut her eyes, knowing they would both fall - when everything was suddenly brought to a halt.

Olwen pried one eye open. And then the other. They were not falling anymore and, to her surprise, it was all Fíli's doing. His left hand was still clasped between hers, but his right was clutching a blade she had not seen before, driven into the wooden wall of the house. He had pushed it deep enough to anchor both of them.

It was then that the guard's voices rang out in alarm. Fíli moved at once, using the blade for purchase and pushing himself up. Olwen helped by hauling him towards her, and they collapsed on the roof just as the guards arrived. A moment later, they scrambled over the shingles as fast as they could, reaching the other side, only to find a staircase that lead down. Despite how wobbly it was, they darted to the bottom and rushed behind the next house; that was where they stopped, crouching beneath a wall and a stack of empty barrels.

Whilst Fíli made sure they were not followed, Olwen leaned against the house, becoming aware of the pain she was truly in. The pulsating in her shoulder was quickly growing worse, enough to leave her breathless for a second. Having hung her head, she cradled her arm, only to feel something wet spreading under her sleeve - which probably meant that Óin's stitches had not held.

"Olwen..."

The whisper urged her to look up, straight at Fíli's worried face. He had noticed. Of course he had. _It would've been a miracle if he hadn't._

"You're... heavier than you look", she tried to joke, but her tone ended up too forced for her liking. Meanwhile, he approached her, staring at her arm, with nothing but guilt etched over his face. But, instead of saying something, something caused him to look to the side.

Olwen did the same, only to freeze. A guard had appeared at the end of their alley, his armour glinting under the lanterns. On top of that, he was coming this way, and there was nothing they could do to escape him. Even if they ran at once, he would see them.

"Where are you going?", Fíli whispered incredulosly as Olwen pushed herself back to her feet. However, she had no time to explain. Smoothing her hair back into place and dusting off her breeches, she walked out of their hiding place, right in front of the guard.

He would not go after her, not at first. After all, the guards were looking for a dwarf. Not her.

"Uh, excuse me." She cleared her throat. He was quite taller than her, even more so with that pointy helm. "Excuse me. Have you seen Bard?"

"The bargeman?", the guard asked, to which she nodded in reply. "Why do you want to know?"

"I have unfinished business with him."

"Well, good luck with finishing it. He's in gaol."

If anything, she did not need to act surprised. "What?"

"'Tis true. He'll stay there 'till the Master figures out what to do with him." That was when the guard took a step closer. He narrowed his eyes at her, almost suspiciously, and his hand hovered near the sword at his belt. "Haven't seen you before, miss. You're not from here, are you?"

"No. I am not." Olwen stood still, while her mind was desperately searching for a good answer. She had to tell him something, _anything_ to dispel his doubt. For a reason she could not fathom, she thought of that other guard, who had almost broken into the house.

_Come on, think. What was his name, what was his name..._ "I am Braga's sister. I came yesterday to visit him, from my husband's town."

A corner of his lips twitched. "And Bard already ticked you off? Can't say I'm surprised. He tends to do that." Soon after, he became serious once more. "Look, miss. If that means so much to you, you could state your business to the Master. Maybe he can help you."

_I seriously doubt that. _"Thank you."

"You should go home now, miss. 'Tis not safe to be outside at this hour."

"Of course." Olwen moved away, hoping he would not notice how she braced her arm against her side. She thanked the Valar it was night. "I will go straight there."

"You know what? I'll escort you."

"Oh, you don't need to." Olwen mustered a smile, waving him off with her free hand. "It's not far. I just -"

"I'll have to insist." The guard glanced over his shoulder, checking something in the distance. "I don't want to disturb you, but something sneaked in here a while ago. A wild animal, they say. If you run into it on your way back, Braga will have my head."

Dread started to pool in her stomach. "I am sure that thing is gone. I haven't heard a thing so far."

"Better safe than sorry, miss." Before she could come up with a reply, the guard shifted closer to her, already ushering her down the alley. "Come with me."

Olwen stalled for a few seconds when his hand landed on her back. By that time, her heart thudded in fear. If she said something now, he would start to suspect her; which was why she merely nodded. Swallowing hard, and hoping he had not caught that, she walked with him out of the alley and beside one of the canals.

Still, she would not go to Braga's house. The last thing she needed was involving another guard, and possibly his whole family, into this mess. The fact that the guard was so keen on escorting her was not helpful at all. _I have to get rid of him,_ she thought grimly, _And fast._

"Difficult journey?", the guard asked all of a sudden. He nodded at her. "Is that how you hurt your arm?"

Olwen felt every muscle in her body tense. "Aye. But, it's all right." Trying not to quicken her pace, she shrugged with her good shoulder. "It could've been worse."

The guard let out a low hum, his focus moving elsewhere. Having crossed a bridge over the water, they were now in what appeared to be a marketplace. In the feeble light of a lantern, she could discern one of the stalls as they passed it. She looked away, though, once the guard led her to the side, to a passage between two houses.

"You're very good", the guard spoke then, his voice almost a whisper, "But, Braga has no sisters."

By the time she faced him, his sword was halfway out of its sheath. Yet, that was all he did when she gave him a well-aimed kick. Groaning in pain, he doubled over before dropping to his knees, which she took as a chance to run. She only managed to turn around, though, when his hand grabbed her ankle; he wrenched her out of balance and she fell, crashing into the wooden dock below.

The impact left her short for breath. Her side throbbed, but she pushed herself onto her back, in time to see the guard come for her - until a solid thwack sent him keeling over. He slumped to the floor, and Olwen gawped as she discovered Fili behind him, gripping a hefty oar.

For a few seconds, she was lost for words. However, the fact that he was here, and not in the alley, was not the only reason. Her power, having been pushed back for so long, used her fear to slip through her hold. She felt its presence by her side, like a dear, yet impatient friend.

"Are you all right?", Fíli asked. Having no intention to tell him the truth, she nodded. That seemed to put him at ease a little. "Stay there. I've got this."

The moment he set down the oar, Fíli went to the guard. He grabbed him by the legs and, with a strength disproportionate to his short stature, he dragged the man out of sight, leaving him behind a wooden fence. In the meantime, Olwen slowly sat up, using a nearby stall as a brace for pushing herself upright.

_Magic is the water in your hand. _The words drummed into her sounded as if spoken yesterday, instead of years. _Lose your focus, and it slips through your fingers. So, hold it, lass. And hold it steady. _Clenching her jaw, Olwen bowed her head, doing all she could to reign in her fear along with her power, which struggled against her hold.

The struggle lasted. But, somehow, with all she had, she pushed it back from whence it had come. Its call, once so close to her ear, became too distant to be heard. Even so, she did not feel glad for her victory.

One day, she would lose. And that day was closing in.

"We should go", Fíli said as he returned, tugging her into the present. "The others will look for him." He soon stopped in the middle of the dock. "Do you see that?"

"What?" Olwen turned in the same direction, gazing at the most unlikely of places. The Lonely Mountain, which towered over every house, had a small, glowing spot in the middle, as though someone had lit a fire over there.

"Is that a beacon?", she wondered.

"No." It took some time for Fíli to find his voice. "Though I wish it was."

The moment he said it, the ground beneath them shook.

**.**

**.**

Óin, son of Gróin, frowned at the baskets and fishing nets that were moving on the rafters. Apparently, everything they had been through was not nearly enough. They had been pursued by an Orc pack, hunted down by another, and fearing that Kíli might not see the dawn, yet they still had to endure an earthquake. _If we reach Erebor in one piece, I might eat my trumpet_, he grumbled to himself. He also sent one last glare upwards before he turned back to the hearth - and his guest.

"This happens a lot, master Óin." Sitting on the floor by the fire, the bargeman's youngest glanced at him in sympathy. "You'll get used to it."

The healer was not ready to agree. He kept the thought to himself, however. Once he knelt on the floorboards beside her, he reached for the bubbling pot he had left above the flames, raising the lid just a little to see how his tea was faring. It was almost done by the looks of it, and he let out a small hum in approval.

He was about to stir it once more when he halted, his gaze wandering to the bed behind Tilda, where his latest patient was still asleep. No tea of his could match the elvish healing arts; he had no doubts about it. But, he could help Kíli regain some of his strength. The lad would certainly need it, given what was coming for them.

"Will he be all right?" The lass's voice was quiet, almost too quiet, and he picked up his ear trumpet as she said: "Tauriel told me that his leg would never fully heal."

"Aye. His leg will pain him sometimes. But, he will live."

She merely nodded in return. On the other hand, her tense posture, as well as the way she clutched the fabric of her skirt, told him plenty of things. She reminded him of a few dwarrows he had tended to, of those who fought hard to conceal how fightened they were. _Well, an approaching horde can do that to a person.  
_

"Come, lassie", he told her, "Lend the old dwarf a hand." Although he did not need help, not truly, it would keep her mind off what was troubling her. "Can you pass me that bag over there, on the table?"

Pulled out of her reverie, the lass grabbed his apothecary bag and handed it to him. She said nothing, even while he rummaged through one of the bag's front pockets, but he did not push her. Instead, he gave her a reassuring smile and pulled out a bundle of various dried herbs.

"What's it like, being a healer?"

His head jerked up, the question taking him by surprise. "You're not planning to become one, are you?"

She was reluctant to answer. "I saw you trying to help Kili. Before Tauriel came."

"Then you know none of my remedies worked."

"But, they helped someone before." Tilda shifted in order to face him, with an odd determination in her gaze. "That is why I asked. I'd like to help, too."

"Listen, lass." Óin sighed, pondering on what to say next. "'Tis a gruelling task. A thankless one, as well. More often than not, your losses will outweight your gains, and it might break your heart." He paused as some of his memories were stirred up. "But, when you look back on what ended well... it could all be worth it."

"Is that so?", she asked in wonder.

"That is what I believe, at least." Returning to his herbs, Óin unfolded the material they were wrapped in. "Now, could you find me some clean cloth?"

Tilda was up in an instant, moving to the neighbouring room, and Óin could not help but notice how appeased she was by his answer. _Well, as long as she found it helpful. Her father won't be too impressed, though. _The dwarf graped a handful of herbs, angling them towards the fire for a better look. Yet, his chance to do it slipped away as a pat of footsteps stole his attention.

"You're fast. I can tell - _Durin's blessed beard, laddie_!"

Óin sprung up, shocked to find Kíli right in front of him. Not only was he upright, but he was also out of bed, on his unsteady feet in the middle of the kitchen. The healer rushed closer, just in case he needed to catch him.

"You're not supposed to be up", he said, "You've just rejoined the living. After a lot of effort, mind you."

Unfortunately, Thorin's nephew paid no heed to that, his eyes searching the room.

"Where's Fíli?", he uttered in the end.

_Ah. Of course he'd ask that. _"Your brother will be back shortly. He went to help the bargeman."

Kíli straightened a little. "He's out there, alone?"

"What? No!", Óin said, only to start fumbling with his words. Telling him at once that Fíli was accompanied by a necromancer might not be the brightest idea. "Well, laddie, you remember that lass you spoke of? The one your brother shared his cell with?"

"I know she's here, Óin", Kíli said, cutting off his attempt to prepare him for the news, "I saw what she did... or what I think she did." He trailed off while his brows knitted together. "Did she really cast magic?"

"One of the worst kinds, to boot." Óin crossed his arms over his chest. Kíli was leaning against a shelf, trying to do it discreetly - without much success. "If you won't lie down, will you sit? I don't think my back is up for lifting stubborn dwarrows when they fall."

He did not seem to have heard it.

"But, Fíli is alive because of her power", the lad continued, "It can't be that bad."

"Oh, it can. This not the first time I've seen necromancy at work."

The healer made a step towards a bench, which was the closest to the fire. Yet, Kíli did not move with him.

"You must be joking." This time, Kíli's voice was almost a whisper. "You _saw_ someone like her before?"

"I was young then. Younger than you. But, I remember."

Kíli was nothing short than astonished, which made Óin push back a groan. _Great._ He knew that expression; and he knew that the young dwarrow would not let him get away without finishing the story. Perhaps it would be for the best if he told it all right there and then. After all, nobody was close enough to listen to them. And he would deal with the memories, and the nightmares, later.

"My father, mother and I were travelling with a caravan, somewhere west from here, when it was ambushed", he began, "I don't know where those men came from. But, they could not be killed. Arrows pierced them, swords slashed at them. They bled, yet they did not fall."

Growing uncomfortable under the lad's stare, he looked down at the ear trumpet in his hands.

"That was when they fought back. There... there was no mercy that day. The things they did..." His voice faltered, and he bowed his head for a moment, fending off the thoughts of it. "That is not something you forget. I can still see the necromancer who controlled them."

Kíli's eyes grew wider. "He was there?"

The healer nodded. "Later, I heard that he lost control of his power. That it consumed him. But, that does not make up for the fact that he tried to butcher us."

"What happened to him?"

"An axe. Belonging to a traveller from the caravan." Óin fiddled with the trumpet before he added: "He saved me, you know. He then fought his way to the necromancer, and he drove his blade through his heart. As soon as he died, it was over - without the magic to keep them alive, his followers dropped, one by one."

Looking up from his hands at last, the elderly dwarf found Kíli leaning closer, athough he kept holding on to the shelf for support. His once puzzled expression was now replaced with sadness.

"Does Gloin know about this?", he asked.

"Of course not. He was not born yet at the time."

"Mahal. You told no one."

"Talking won't change what happened, Kíli."

Having seen that his paient would remain standing, Óin sat down himself, bracing his hands against his knees.

He had believed he would never witness that kind of magic again. And now, more than a century and a half later, another necromancer was standing near the Long Lake. It was strange how some things tend to repeat in life - when they were needed the least.

"Olwen might differ from that necromancer", he said, "She might even have good intentions. But, one day, her power will get the better of her." He gave the lad a dark look. "I just hope that won't be on this night."

If Kíli had something on his mind, he left it unsaid, letting the crackling fire fill in the silence. But, then he blinked as something else occurred to him.

"The traveller who saved you", he started soon after, "Was he some hero?"

"To some, aye. To me, he was just my _adad_."

The lad's bewildered expression almost made Óin laugh. But, he did no such thing, since he was startled by a sudden gust of wind, strong enough to shove all the windows open. As he whirled towards one of them, a piece of linen flew past, blown away from wherever it was placed to dry. Before he could look closer, though, another gust followed, stronger than the last, and he gripped the window frame while he stuck his head out. Kíli joined him in seconds, nudging the healer a bit to lean through the window, as well.

"Óin. Look!" The lad pointed into the darkness, and Óin found the same thing he had. Along the canal that went in front of the house, two figures were running like mad, straight towards the front door; a dwarrow and a woman. They were halfway down the canal when the woman slowed down, glancing back at something while the dwarrow continued forward.

It was then that Óin saw it. A third figure, far too large for any bird, lunged from the night. Whilst it soared above Fíli and Olwen, it spread its wings wide against the moonlight - and the healer felt his knees knock together. That form could only belong to one creature.

"_Uslukh_."

**.**

**.**

**Translation:**

\- adad - father

\- uslukh - dragon

**I would be very happy to hear what you think of this. Don't hesitate to leave a review - I will appreciate every single one. :)**


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